Honey And The Moon
by Sandiane Carter
Summary: He always had this vague, half-formed desire for a family with Kate Beckett. He just never expected it to happen like this. - for Laura. I hope you had an amazing birthday!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Merry Birthday, Laura. I'm so grateful for you._  
_

**Disclaimer: Castle belongs to ABC. I'm only doing this for fun.**

* * *

_I think that you came too soon  
You're the honey and the moon  
That lights  
Up my night_

Joseph Arthur - "Honey And The Moon"

* * *

Kate is asleep in her hospital bed.

The sharp line of her lashes contrasts darkly to her pale skin; she looks almost fragile in the hesitant morning light. The thick, white dressing around her left shoulder makes her arm and neck seem even more slender than usual, porcelain-thin.

So easily broken.

But her chest rises and falls, the miracle of her breathing happening over and over, and Castle relaxes slowly into his chair, eyes drifting shut.

He's wandering along the edge of sleep when a faint sucking sound brings him back, commands his scattered attention. But the baby sprawled over his chest doesn't move, only parts her little mouth at his pec. Her face is nestled so closely against him that all he sees the round curve of a cheek, the downy tuft of dark brown hair.

Kate's hair.

Alexis was a bald baby - although her big blue eyes charmed every audience into forgetting it - but Jim's shown Castle pictures of baby Kate, and she looked exactly like this.

Or rather, their newborn daughter looks exactly like her mother.

Their _daughter._

It's so surreal. He's got that disbelieving taste in his mouth,_ too good to be true_, and it doesn't help that Kate isn't awake to share this moment with him. He needs her badly, can feel it pound in his bones even as their daughter sleeps, her little body snug and warm against his.

She's so tiny. Hands and feet and nose: all of them are miniature but flawless, an exquisitely delicate work of art. He doesn't remember Alexis being so tiny, not ever, but the doctor said the baby was fine, perfectly healthy.

Three weeks premature, and already perfect. Kate's genes, no doubt.

The obstetrician wanted to put her in an incubator for the night, for warmth he said, but there was no way Castle would let him take away his daughter. That's the reason he's now sitting half-naked in Kate's room, the little girl cradled close, sharing his body heat.

Kangaroo Mother Care, they call it. Could be koala or elephant, he still wouldn't care. As long as he gets to have both Kate and their baby with him.

He runs his thumb across the girl's spine, that so-soft skin, lets his fingers curl around the minuscule calf as he brushes a kiss to her hair.

He thought he knew what he was getting into. That day Kate told him she was pregnant, her lip caught between her teeth, that tentative joy at the back of her eyes despite her hesitation, he thought, _We can do this._

A child of their own. A Beckett baby. He wasn't about to say no to that, even if he was older now than when he'd had Alexis, his body less equipped to deal with sleepless nights. Kate would make the difference; he wouldn't be doing it alone this time, wouldn't never have to be both mom and dad.

But now that their daughter is here and he's been dazzled all over again, chains twining around his heart the moment he got to hold her in his arms, he realizes that once again-

Kate was right. He had no idea.

Castle leans back into the chair with a sigh, feels his daughter's weight settle into him, so very light. Her tiny fingers fist on his chest, like she's already got a mind of her own, and shit.

He closes his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed, emotion strangling his throat. It's too much - it's just - he can't-

"Castle?"

Oh, god. Oh god, thank you.

Kate's voice, rough and faint as it is, accomplishes what it always does - anchor him, walk him back from the edge. He gathers himself and then opens his eyes, afraid that he's dreaming.

But he's not. She's staring back at him, her cheek against the pillow, eyes dark with exhaustion. He smiles at her because he can't not, because the gratitude in his heart needs an out, and her mouth curls up slowly in response.

"Hey," she says, and that dry little syllable pushes him upright, looking for the glass of water that he knows to be on her bedside table.

But the sleepless night catches up with him and he sways on his feet, black swimming into his vision, has to hold onto one of the machines so he won't collapse. His daughter - who's clearly a superior sort of human being - doesn't rouse, but Castle's mouth goes dry, heart hammering against his ribs as he gets his balance back.

Maybe Kangaroo Mother Care has reached its limits.

Very gently, he deposits the sleeping baby into the bassinet that's been placed in Kate's room, watches her for a moment, just to be sure, while he catches his breath.

Then he turns to Beckett, skirts the machines to stand at her side. Her eyes are closed again, her breathing deep and even, and he wonders if she's seen any of that.

"Kate?" he asks softly, reaching for the water.

Her lashes flutter, her lips parting on a hum, and he slants a finger over her cheekbone, encouraging her into awareness. It's probably selfish, but he doesn't care.

He needs her.

"Kate, there's water if you want it."

She makes a small sound that he takes as agreement, and turns her face to him, eyes slowly opening; he slides a hand under her neck, help her raise her head enough that she can drink.

He holds the plastic cup to her lips, carefully watching her sip, thumb stroking her neck. She sinks back into the pillow with a relieved sigh when she's done, but her eyes focus on him this time. They must have given her some good drugs, because she looks relaxed, if a little out of it.

"Hey," he murmurs, fingertips grazing her temple. He has to touch her - he needs some proof that she's here with him, alive, that everything will be fine.

He can't - he can't do this without her.

Kate presses her mouth together, lifts an eyebrow at him, her eyes doing that little flick down to his chest before they come back to his face.

"Mmm, naked Castle," she rasps, skirting his bare side with her right hand. "Is it my birthday or something?"

And despite the hospital room, despite the dark circles around her eyes and the baby that sleeps only feet away, he shivers at her touch.

"Kate," he says softly, curling his own fingers around hers.

She smiles, that mischievous, challenging grin that he's seen more than a few times in their bed, and tugs on his hand.

"You're not kissing me," she states, like this is a mistake he'd better fix.

He hesitates for maybe a second before he bends over her, careful to keep his weight on his forearms, and brushes his mouth over hers. Intently.

She moans into his lips, an imperceptible sound that is meant only for him, and shit, she can't do that right now. She can't-

Her tongue strokes at his bottom lip, heavy and rich, and his brain just surrenders. He parts his mouth for her, lets her investigate, exact and thorough like the good detective she is, occasionally contributing with a touch of his tongue - until suddenly she gasps under him.

And not in the good way.

He immediately pushes himself up, surveying her face in concern: he must have pressed on her shoulder without meaning to. Idiot.

"Kate?"

Her eyes are tightly shut, her parted lips sucking in slow breaths, and he seriously wants to smack himself.

"I'm sorry," he sighs, but she shakes her head, fingers squeezing a warning. Doesn't want his apology, does she?

When she looks at him again, her eyes are clearer, more aware; the pain's probably cut through the blissful haze of the drugs. Her eyebrows knit as she takes in her surroundings, and then her gaze comes to rest on him.

"What am I doing in the hospital?"

And here comes the not-so-fun part. He briefly wishes they could go back to kissing.

"You were shot," he says, swallowing past the hard edge of the words. "You don't remember?"

She shakes her head slowly, that little wrinkle of concentration on her forehead that he finds so adorable, and he forces himself to go on.

"You - you were at the precinct. You weren't meant to, but apparently you just...stopped by to say hi to Ryan and Esposito, and ask Gates something about your maternity leave-"

He stops himself, too late, watches her eyes go wide with realization. She tries to sit up, lips parting in panic, and he can't freaking reassure her because he's got to keep her from _moving_-

"Kate..."

"Castle, the baby-"

"Stop," he pleads, his hand at her right shoulder, the other one finding her wrist, holding her down as he leans in. "Please, Kate - you just had surgery-"

"Just tell me-" Her voice is coarse, breaking.

"She's fine," he cuts softly, pressing a long kiss to her lips, stroking his thumb along her wrist. "She's fine. I promise, Kate. All good. Our baby's fine."

She sighs a little sob, a sound that travels through him and knots his insides; the taste of her tears is on his tongue.

"She?" Kate breathes out, nudging him with her nose.

Oh. Yeah. They kept it a surprise.

"Yeah," he grunts, painting her cheek with his lips. "They, um. While they were operating on your shoulder, your body was under so much stress that you started having contractions. Because you were so far along already, the surgeon decided it was safest for you both to deliver the baby."

The man came to Castle with an argument so rational, so well put together, but the thing that swayed Rick was really that word - safety.

"Deliver the baby," Kate echoes, and he hears in her stunned voice the effort she's making to keep it together.

"I - I gave them my agreement, and they did a C-section. It seemed like the best thing to do." And he would do it again, without a second's hesitation, but he's craving her approval now, depends on it, and he knows she can probably hear that. "Kate?"

She keeps silent for a moment, taking it all in, and then he feels her hand move against him - her fingers uncurling, traveling down. To the bump that is no longer there.

"Oh," she says simply, and for the life of him he cannot decipher that strange quality to her voice - is it surprise or disappointment or-

Her lips brush over his, startling him, and there's a tiny shadow of a smile at her mouth.

"Stop thinking so hard," she orders quietly. "You did good, Castle. Made a tough decision on your feet. I'm proud of you."

His eyes close in relief - because god, it might have been the worst moment of his life, having to make that choice when both hers and their baby's life were on the table - and he kisses her again, a strong press of his mouth. Her fingers tangle in his hair, dancing at his nape, and when he breaks apart she exhales slowly, her eyes dark and certain.

"I'm sorry I scared you," she whispers, and he shakes his head, can't even speak.

It doesn't matter. None of it matters. She's here, alive, and so is-

Their baby.

Kate's eyes find his hungrily, as if she can read his thoughts, and she gives a sharp little squeeze around his neck.

"What're you waiting for? Give me my daughter, Castle," she says, and it might be the sexiest thing he's ever heard her say.

* * *

He lifts the baby and holds her to his chest, every move calculated and so very gentle; Kate's breath catches, her heart lifting in anticipation as he comes closer.

Three weeks. She was supposed to have three more weeks before the baby came, three more weeks of feeling those kicks against her skin, her child shifting inside her.

And now-

Her thoughts scatter at the sight of the small round head, the tuft of dark hair, the baby fitting into the length of Castle's forearm. Kate wants, so badly, to open her arms - but her left elbow is bent at her chest, trapped by the tight gauze, and the best she can do is move her right arm out of the way, hold still while Rick arranges her daughter into what little space is left.

The girl fits - how can she be so tiny? - and doesn't seem to mind: she makes cute sucking sounds, mouth opening and closing, but she sleeps right through it. Kate rests a tentative hand against the little body, that warm skin that she can feel radiating even through the sheets, and takes a long breath of it. Her.

Her daughter.

Oh.

Oh.

Is that what it felt like for her own mom?

She can't look away from the miniature profile, the slope of the nose, the open bud of the mouth; the baby breathes and Kate breathes alongside her, feels that communion deep into her bones.

The sense of responsibility is balanced out by the brutal surge of love, bright and uncompromising, and she's cracked open, can only lay there, vulnerable and naked and remade anew by the tiny human being resting on her chest.

It's - it doesn't make sense.

She can't make sense of it.

"I know," Castle murmurs at her side, his voice warm and so rich that she has to tear her eyes away from the baby, look up at his face.

He's watching them both with a fierce, vibrant love, his eyes crinkled in joy but his mouth set, his jaw sharp with protectiveness. His body's still tense, bears the marks of that phone call that Ryan or Esposito must have made, of the long wait cramped in a hospital seat, and suddenly she can't bear for him to be standing at her bedside, entirely too far.

"Castle."

She scoots as best as she can, keeps a firm hand on her daughter as she wriggles her hips, her left arm useless in the sling. Then she cuts her eyes back to him in silent invitation.

He hesitates, a hand on the railing, and Kate squirms again to give him as much room as she can, cursing hospital beds for being so narrow. Pain flares in her shoulder and she grits her teeth, refuses to let the moment be ruined.

"Come on," she says, and he finally relents, gliding the railing down and edging half his ass onto the mattress.

She doesn't care that it hurts, that her body tingles with an awareness that's edging onto pain; he feels warm and solid as he leans back onto his elbow, shifts so he's facing her.

"Kate," he murmurs, his fingers coming up to her face, caressing her temple and the line of her jaw. Her eyes flutter shut, her heart full, and yes, _yes _- this is exactly what she wants.

This man, the way he looks at her, loves her, imperious and unending and so very beautiful.

And their daughter's heart beating in time with hers.

It's everything she needs.


	2. Chapter 2

Of course.

_No breastfeeding._

She should've known; if her brain was a little less hazy, a little less slow, she would've realized.

As it is, Castle's strong hand around hers is the only thing that keeps her tears from spilling out. Her heart is caught in her throat, weeping disappointment, and she only vaguely listens to the rest of the doctor's speech.

No breastfeeding.

She never thought she could hate her job like this.

* * *

"She needs a name," Kate says suddenly, her voice low, but startling him all the same.

He thought she'd fallen asleep.

The doctor left a little while ago, said to call if Kate was in any kind of pain, that she would increase the dosage of morphine. Rick already knew the extent of Beckett's injury, the consequences it would have, and he didn't miss the flash of sorrow in her eyes when she realized there would be no breastfeeding. It makes him hurt for her, it does - but it's still hard to feel anything other than pounding relief for the fact that she's alive. That they both are.

He's going to dream about it for weeks, the pool of her blood, the sirens of the ambulance, so he'd rather - focus on the positive now. Let the baby on Kate's chest light up his world like Alexis always did.

"Yeah," he murmurs, tracing the shell of the girl's ear with his thumb. Kate's talked him into resuming his place in her bed, and he's lying on his side, his mouth at her temple, watching over them both. His elbow's starting to hurt from the prolonged effort, but he couldn't care less.

The baby should be hungry soon, he thinks idly. Last time he fed her was - ah, around two hours ago? Before Kate woke. Maybe they still have some time-

"Castle," Kate nudges him softly, and he realizes his thoughts have scattered again.

Man, he's tired.

"Right," he says. "A name."

It's not like they haven't talked about it. They have. They've had ridiculous arguments because they couldn't agree (and because they didn't know what they were having). Until six hours ago, Castle was still convinced that Inara was a perfectly good choice for a girl, but...

Now that she's here, now that he's felt the tiny puff of their daughter's breath on his skin, it doesn't feel good enough. Nothing does.

They need-

something special. Something with meaning. Something - ah, he doesn't know.

"A name starting with N," Kate suggests, her fingers curling around their daughter's head.

She's not looking at him, and he pauses in surprise, can't remember her bringing this up before.

"N?"

A small smile lifts the corner of her mouth, like when she gets an idea for a theory, a really good one, and she can't wait to share it with him.

It's a very sexy smile.

"Well. We made her together, didn't we?"

She pauses like she's actually waiting for his agreement, so he gives a little grunt, not sure where she's going with this. But yeah - hell yeah - they made that baby together all right. Enjoyed it, too.

"So she's part you and part me, Castle. Just like Nikki Heat."

Just like-

Oh.

He stares at Kate, stunned and helplessly aroused, can't believe she wants their little girl's name to share its initial with the character he based on her. But she looks back at him, that lowered-lashes look she has when something matters to her, and-

Wow.

"She is," he finally breathes, thumb stroking heavy against her forearm. "Yeah. Work of love."

Kate huffs a laugh, an eyebrow arched in playful warning - _stop right there, buddy -_ and he grins at her, wide and pleased and still a little awed.

A name that starts with N.

"I'm guessing Nikki is out of the question," he says, just to have her roll her eyes at him. But she does so with a press of her mouth, that almost-smile that he loves, and his heart just - melts in his chest.

How he loves her.

"Come on, Castle. You can do better," she nudges, eyes slipping closed for a moment. He brushes a hand over hers and watches her, anxiety piking in his chest. It's costing her, isn't it? The easy banter, pretending that everything's fine.

"Kate, you gotta tell me if it hurts," he says. "Please. I'll call back the nurse-"

"No," she opposes, eyes opening again and staring right into his. "This first, Castle. Okay? This first. She's got to - she's got to have a name. And then you can call whoever you want."

So determined, always. Kate Beckett never breaks, does she?

"Fine," he relents with a sigh, figures the easier way out is probably to give her what she wants. "Nicole."

She shoots him a look, and he's got to admit, okay, that's nearly the same as Nikki.

"Um. Nora."

Kate gives a little wince. "No."

Fine. "Nancy?"

He gets a faint laugh for that one, but she shakes her head. "No, Castle."

Huh. What else is there? "Oh, I know," he hums, pleased with himself. "Nadia."

Kate tilts her head, her dark hair snaking against the pillow, and considers. "Hmm. I don't know. It's nice, but it's not exactly...right."

"Well, it's easy saying no," he points out with an exaggerated arch of his eyebrow. "I don't hear you making suggestions."

She presses her lips together, her fingers dancing over the baby's back, up and down, hypnotic; he has to make himself look away.

"Nadia," she murmurs, as if trying to work her mind and mouth around the sound.

"I'm kind of running out of N's here," he says, frustrated with his own lack of creativity. Okay, it's five in the morning, but still - he's supposed to be a writer. Is that really all his imagination can provide? "I should have brought that book from the loft."

Or-

He chuckles to himself, amused by his new idea and certain Kate will not like it.

"What?" she says, a wary look on her face.

"Narcissa," he offers with a wriggle of his eyebrow, knowing she'll get the reference.

"Ugh, Castle, no. I'm not naming my daughter after Lucius Malfoy's wife."

"Hey, she's the one who saves the day in the end," he defends. "Her love for her son - that's what does it. Makes her lie to Voldemort about Harry being dead. Without Narcissa, no happy ending."

"Castle. It's cute that you're a Harry Potter geek, and that you pay such attention to details, but...can we please get back to the issue at hand here?"

"Nala," he suggests, openly laughing now. His brain keeps coming up with the best names, really.

She grunts, doesn't even bother giving him an answer.

"What about...Neve," she says suddenly, her voice low and beautiful in the diffuse morning light.

Huh. "How do you spell that? Like Neve Campbell?"

"Maybe," she answers, her brow wrinkling. "Pronounced differently, but - I guess that spelling could work. I've seen it written with a double _e_ before."

"Is that an Irish name?"

"I think so," she says, giving him a pensive look. "Yeah."

Neeve. Neve. Short, but - yeah. Interesting. Mysterious. He likes it.

"It sounds gorgeous," he says honestly. "Neve. Neve Castle."

"It does," Kate echoes softly, her thumb running over the baby's cheek. "What do you think, little girl?" she murmurs. "Neve? Would you like that?"

The baby makes a sucking sound, wriggles into Kate's chest before she stops moving again. And sleeps.

"I'd say it works for her," Castle says, laughter bubbling in his voice. Seriously, he just wants to eat their baby. She's way too cute for her own good.

"How about you?" Kate's eyes have turned to him, intent and curious. "Does it work for you, Rick?"

It hits him brutally that this is the first time he gets to discuss their baby's name with the mother. When Alexis was born, Meredith was just - Meredith. It's not that she didn't care (well, okay, it _did _feel like it) but she never would have looked up at him like Kate's doing right now, making certain that this is what he wants, too.

God, Kate Beckett is amazing. What does it matter if she's not his wife?

"It does," he says when he finally finds his voice. "Yeah. I think it's beautiful, Kate. And...different. Rare. I want that for our daughter."

Her smile touches her face slowly, eyes first, and then it's the cheekbones that lift, her mouth opening in that enchanting way of hers.

"I want it too."

* * *

Neve.

He's got time, so once Kate is asleep again - knocked out by the shot of morphine the nurse gave her - he researches the name on the internet.

It's either that or working himself up over the man who walked into the precinct, asked for the Homicide floor and then started randomly shooting at people. It's a miracle no one's dead, but there are a few other cops in the hospital right now. None of them were pregnant, though.

Castle closes his eyes, tries to force his thoughts in another direction. They caught the guy; they found out why he did it. Revenge for the last ten years he spent in jail, for a murder he always denied committing. The case is closed, nothing Rick can do, and Kate will kill him if he keeps obsessing over it.

Right. So-

Neve can also be spelled Neeve, Nieve or Niamh. Huh. He kinda likes that last one, because then it's like a secret - the pronunciation impossible to get from the spelling alone. But he doubts he can make Beckett agree to it.

He reads on, learns that Niamh is an old Irish name that means "bright," or "radiant." How perfect is that, seriously? Yes, yes, he's being sappy, but he thinks given the circumstances, he might be excused. Just this once.

Oh, and Niamh was a goddess in Irish mythology. Daughter of the god of the sea. And lover of a poet-hero. Wow, this just keeps getting better and better.

The rest of the Wikipedia article is a list of famous women named Niamh, so he skims through it and then leaves the page, searches for more information about Irish mythology. He only finds bits and pieces, and the last website is so horribly-written that he just gives up altogether.

The phone slips back into his pocket, and he rises from his chair to check on the baby. Right in time, apparently. Neve is stirring in her bassinet, little eyes blinking into the morning light; he lifts her gently, heart melting at the way she fits against him.

"Time to eat, baby girl, yeah?" he murmurs, feels his cheeks aching with the breadth of his smile. Ah, well. Nothing for it.

"Let's not wake Mommy," he coos, carefully sliding out of the bedroom, heading for the nurses' room where he got a bottle the first time. "We can manage perfectly well on our own. Right, Neve? We're gonna make a great team, you and I. I can tell."

He's ridiculous, he knows, but his daughter is watching him, blue-grey eyes entranced at the sound of his voice, and he just - he might never get over it.

He has a baby with Kate Beckett.


	3. Chapter 3

Esposito's bulky, muscular frame makes the newborn in his arms seem out of proportion, too small for the world that surrounds her. It sparks an absurd need in Kate's chest to protect Neve from everything, take the baby back inside herself and keep her there, always.

She forces her eyes away, staring at the window instead, and takes deep breaths until she's managed to dispel the feeling.

"You okay?" Esposito asks in his usual blunt manner, moving closer.

Beckett returns her gaze to him, notices with a flicker of a smile how careful he is with the girl, how adept too. Lanie would melt to see it.

"Just exhausted," she admits, glad that she can at least be honest about that. Castle has been so worried about her that she'll say just about anything to soften the concern in his eyes; it was a relief when Ryan took him down to the cafeteria for coffee.

Oh god, coffee.

She would _kill_ for a sip of it.

"My body feels like it could fall apart any time," she confesses instead with a little laugh, closing her eyes briefly. "It's ridiculous. I had heart surgery before; this should be easy in comparison."

Esposito's dark eyes rest on her face, too much knowledge in them. "Maybe physically, it should," he says. "But when you were shot at Montgomery's funeral you didn't have a family waiting for you when you woke up. You didn't have a baby girl who needed you."

She grits her teeth and swallows, can't hold his gaze. Damn it. She forgets sometimes how similar their personalities are, how easy it is for Espo to understand the way she thinks - and he's a lot more perceptive than people give him credit for. That's part of what makes him such a good detective. "I guess not," she reluctantly agrees, her throat squeezing. If only, if only she hadn't been at the precinct that day-

"Not your fault though," he points out, resting his thigh against the edge of her bed. His large palm cradles the baby's head, and Kate watches, entranced, as the tiny eyes open. "You couldn't possibly have known what would happen. No one could have."

"I put her in harm's way," she rasps, feels the familiar fist of guilt closing over her heart. It_ is_ her fault; she went to the precinct because she missed it, because she couldn't wait to get back to work, and she risked her daughter's life-

"Stop that," Esposito says sharply, startling her eyes up to his. He's intent, his mouth set, almost severe. "The 12th is one of the safest places in the city. You _know_ that. That nutcase should never have made it through; he wouldn't if dumbass Officer Marshall had done his job right. Nobody could've seen this coming, Beckett."

She presses her lips together, nods slowly. He's right. She knows he's right. But- "How are the others doing?" she asks, suddenly eager for a change of subject.

Javier gives her a penetrating look but lets it slide, humoring her. For now. "Hastings got discharged yesterday, and Johnson and Turner should get out any time now. Turner's got a splintered wrist, and that shit takes time to heal, but they should all be fine."

"Good," she murmurs. She's been selfish, thinking only of herself and her baby, and it's a relief to know...

"Captain Gates asked me to congratulate you on her behalf," Esposito adds, a smile tugging at his mouth. "I think she had half a mind to come here herself and see the baby. Yes," he coos, looking down at Neve and tickling the small, round belly, "she wanted to see you. She wanted to see little Snow White. You're famous, you know that?"

Kate gapes at him, too many questions surging in her mind, unable to choose one. "I - what-"

He flashes her a laughing glance, the little bastard, and she finally gathers herself. "Snow White?"

"_Neve_ means snow in Italian, Beckett. Portuguese, too. Don't tell me you didn't know that."

Oh, great. Maybe she should've gone for Castle's weird spelling after all. "It must have slipped my mind," she hisses, can't believe she condemned her little girl to a life of being called _Snow White_ by Esposito. And- "Gates is coming here?"

"Nah. Ryan managed to dissuade her. You owe him a week of Ferrari, he said."

Of course.

"But - seriously?" Beckett isn't sure she believes it. "She wanted to come see our _baby_?"

It's true that the captain has been surprisingly supportive (and by _supportive_ Kate really means that Gates didn't kick Castle out of the precinct the moment she learned about their relationship) but a visit to the hospital is-

A step that she wouldn't expect Victoria Gates to take.

"She was here the night you were admitted," Esposito points out, opening his mouth wide at the newborn in his arms.

"Yeah, to make sure her people would pull through," Beckett shoots back. "Not because she wanted to see Neve."

Javier stops making faces at Neve long enough to give Kate a strange, serious look. "You don't realize, do you?"

She arches an eyebrow at him. "Realize what?"

"I'm only half-joking when I say she's famous," he says, nodding down at the little girl. "Hell, the whole precinct is dying to see her. What do you think? A Castle and Beckett baby? People at the 12th have been rooting for you two ever since Writer Boy started following you around. Most of them keep quiet about it because they don't want to intrude, but it's there, Beckett. And everybody's really happy for you guys."

She stares at him, can't even begin to think of an answer. He's - he's gotta be joking, right? She doesn't even know all the names of the guys working at the precinct. Why would they give a damn about her happy ending?

"Oh, shut up," she breathes out, feels a burning heat radiating from her cheeks. It can't be true. It just can't.

Esposito shrugs, returns his attention to the baby. "Whatever you wanna believe. I'm just saying - Neve's got her very own fan club already. Oh, yes you do," he stage-whispers to the girl, widening his eyes dramatically. "That's right. How exciting, huh? You're a star. You're a star, Snow White."

Beckett sinks her teeth into her lower lip, the warmth spreading to her chest now, her fingers itching to reach and touch as her daughter wriggles her little legs, parts her round mouth on a small sound.

Maybe Neve can pull off that nickname after all.

* * *

"Castle."

Kate exhales loudly, giving him a look, and he immediately steps back, shuffles to the side until his shoulder bumps into the wooden panel of the elevator.

Beckett is fine; she told him she was fine, that all she needed was space. He's not stupid. He can learn. He can.

If only she didn't look so tired, if only she didn't have her free hand pressed to her abdomen where he knows the stitches from the C-section are-

No, no. She will dismember him if he asks how she's feeling.

So he brushes his hand over Neve's head, lets the silky hair tickle his palm. The girl is sound asleep, full of the bottle he gave her before they left the hospital, and she's drooling all over the red fabric of the baby carrier. Adorable.

A soft ping calls for his attention, the doors opening in a smooth glide, and he catches Kate's eyes on him before she quickly steps out into the corridor. He follows, perplexed by that look on her face - was that envy? - but it all scatters when she reaches the door and gets out her own key, skillfully working it one-handed into the hole.

This is it.

Kate might not be his wife (_yet_, the hopeful half of him wants to add) but this is their first time coming home as a family, the first time that Neve has been to the loft. His heart does a funny pirouette, his throat suddenly thick with emotion, and he can't help but wish Alexis was here for this.

He was the one who pushed her not to cancel her participation to the NYU exchange program with the University of Edinburgh, even after they learned about Kate's pregnancy, and he knows if he had to do it again he would give her the same advice. He wants his daughter to take every opportunity she's offered, to live her life fully and without regrets.

But still. It's not completely right without her.

"Castle, you coming in or you wanna spend your day in the hallway?" Kate asks from inside the loft. The open door beckons, inviting, and he finally remembers to move his feet.

"Coming," he answers, a hand around Neve's back, and he slowly, breathlessly makes his way inside their new life.

* * *

Castle is in the shower when she hears the baby monitor, the initial soft whine quickly escalating into a full-blown cry.

Kate pushes back the covers and sits up too fast, wincing when her stiff muscles protest, the heavy throb starting in her shoulder. Damn it.

She grabs the sling and adjusts it around her neck, letting it take the weight of her arm off her shoulder, and then she eases onto her feet, slides out of their bedroom. She wanted for Neve to sleep in the study, if not in the room with them, but the doctor insisted so heavily on Kate needing rest that Castle flat out refused. And she couldn't very well move the wooden cradle one-handed.

She jogs up the stairs, walks past Martha and Alexis's empty rooms. Neve's voice gets louder with every step and Kate's chest constricts in response, little sparks of panic flying at her heart.

"Oh, sweetheart," she says as she makes her way to her daughter, takes in the baby's red, scrunched up face. "It's okay, baby. Mommy's here. It's okay. What's wrong, beautiful?"

She runs her fingers over the round cheek, the soft onesie, and for a few seconds Neve quiets, Kate's presence registering with her. Then she opens her mouth and lets out a sharp, desperate cry that slices right through her mother's chest.

Beckett looks up, hoping for a miraculous apparition from Castle, but no such luck. Great - he hovers around her all day, never leaves her alone, but the one time she needs him he's in the shower. "You're gonna be okay, sweet girl," she murmurs, glancing down at Neve and offering her index finger for the baby to wrap her hand around.

But their daughter won't take it, only slams her little fist into Kate's palm, and the panic that Beckett's been trying to keep a lid on overflows, floods her chest. "What's going on, Neve? Are you hungry? You just gotta wait for Daddy, love. I can go make you a bottle, but you gotta wait for Daddy to lift you up, okay?"

Fuck, she hates this. She hates feeling this helpless, unable to give her baby the comfort she needs. What if Neve is sick? What if there's something really wrong and-

Kate shuts her eyes for a second, sucks in a breath, then cuts an assessing look to the sling around her shoulder, the depth of the bed. All it would take is a handful of seconds - leaning down, gathering her daughter, arranging her onto her good arm. Surely she can handle that.

Neve's voice rises to an even higher pitch and Beckett's hesitations evaporate. She slips the strap off her neck, letting the sling drop to the floor, and she sets her jaw as she leans over the crib.

"Come here, sweetheart," she says, sliding her hands under the baby's armpits. And then she lifts-

Tries to lift. Either the girl is surprisingly heavy, or Kate is surprisingly weak, but the pressure on her shoulder sends bright flashes of pain sizzling through her arm; her grip on Neve loosens, the baby falling back onto the mattress with an unhappy shriek. Beckett bites sharply into her lower lip and curls her trembling fingers around the edge of the bed, her heart pounding in her chest. Jesus, what was she thinking-

"Kate?"

She slowly lifts her eyes. Castle's already walking in, wearing jeans and nothing else, his still-wet hair spiking in every possible direction; he goes straight to the crib and easily picks up Neve, soothing nonsense on his lips as he cradles her to his chest. The image should melt Beckett's heart, but instead she feels an irrational, overwhelming surge of jealousy, has to close her eyes so he won't see.

"What happened?" he asks after a few seconds, a little breathless, a little anxious. He must have seen the sling on the floor.

She lets out a shaky sigh, a hand coming up to her face when she realizes the presence of moisture on her cheeks. Wonderful.

"Nothing," she breathes between clenched teeth. "She was crying; I think she's hungry. You should take her downstairs."

There's a beat of silence and Kate finally slits her eyes open, half-hoping she'll be alone. But no; Castle is still here, his blue eyes filled with concern, Neve whimpering against his chest.

"Kate," he murmurs, and she can't take it, the worry and sadness in his voice, can't take any of it.

"I'm fine," she says just as she becomes aware of the furious stab of pain in her shoulder, the blood that throbs even in her fingers. "Just - go feed her, Castle. She was crying her eyes out. I'll be fine."

He doesn't answer, but instead of heeding her words he squats down, the baby carefully balanced against him, and picks up the sling. He stands up again, slowly, and slides the strap back around Kate's neck; she can't suppress her shudder of agony when his hand skims her shoulder.

"Beckett," he scolds, but she's had enough. She's not his daughter; she's an adult, entitled to her own choices, right or wrong, and she simply can't deal with him right now.

"Go, Castle," she repeats firmly, averting her eyes as she cautiously works her arm back into the sling. "Your daughter's hungry."

He turns around, waves of reluctance rolling off him, and moves for the door. He pauses when he reaches the hallway, as if hoping that she will call him back, but Kate keeps her mouth shut, watches his shoulders sag before he disappears.

She waits a moment more, until she's sure he's not coming back - and then she collapses down to her knees, lets her silent tears spill over her cheeks.

* * *

Red, red, red.

Castle jerks awake with his mouth open on a silent scream, the vivid scarlet of Kate's blood smeared behind his eyelids. He sucks in a string of gasping breaths, the horror still so real and weighing on his chest, until the soft familiarity of his bed, the quiet of the night finally sink in. He rolls onto his side, orienting toward Kate, but her side is empty, the sheets cold.

He's on the verge of a panic attack when his eyes stumble onto the baby monitor on the bedside table, the white little antenna shining in a thin ray of light.

Right. Neve.

The baby must've woken up and Kate went upstairs to change her, feed her - or maybe just rock her back to sleep.

Castle drops his head back onto the pillow, the taste of relief in his mouth, can't tear his eyes from the monitor, the physical, tangible evidence that Neve is real, that Kate isn't dead. That his dream was nothing but a dream, striking and terrible as it was.

It should be enough. He wills it to be enough, wills his body back to sleep - god knows he needs it - but there's a lingering anxiety, an uncertainty that pushes him, sluggish and staggering, out of bed.

The doctor cleared Kate to use her arm a couple days back (_moderately and wisely_, he said) but Castle keeps picturing her struggling, the memory of that day when he found her in tears in the nursery following him. He's not worried about Neve - Beckett would break her own arm rather than let something happen to the baby - but he_ is_ worried that Kate will overdo it.

He grabs a t-shirt and pulls it over his head, heads for the living-room. He's half-asleep still, his thoughts spiraling into nothingness, so when Kate materializes in front of him at the bottom of the stairs he slams into her, nearly sends them both to the floor.

"Sorry, sorry," he grunts, catching himself with a hand to the wall, the other curling around her elbow.

She lets out a small sound that he thinks might be a laugh, her fingers soft on his forearm, and the air rushes out of him when he feels the warm press of her lips at his throat. "What you doing out of bed?" she whispers, squeezing his side.

"Bad dream," he rumbles, wrapping his arms around her. She's long and lithe, pliant against him, and he doesn't remember her being so tender since the day they came home with Neve. He understands - he knows how hard it must be for her, how fierce and independent she is - but he's missed this.

Them.

"Poor baby," she smiles against his neck. And he doesn't even care that she's laughing at him, because her mouth is at his jaw next, brushing feather-light kisses to his skin, sending a long shiver of delight through his veins. "I'm sorry," she breathes, stroking the short hair at his temple, but he doesn't want to hear it, dips his head to find her lips.

She parts her mouth with a hum, meets his tongue for a slow, languid dance that soon has his heart aflutter, a warm wetness pushing at his eyelids. "Kate," he murmurs when she breaks the kiss, overwhelmed and silly with love.

"Let's go back to bed," she says, lacing their fingers, her thumb so soft at the back of his hand. "We both need the sleep, Castle."

He follows her wordlessly, when all he really wants is to stay there, their bodies flush in the dimness of their living room, and never let go.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** All my thanks to the wonderful softer for the beautiful cover art. And to all of you who read and review - you're awesome.

* * *

Kate rolls onto her uninjured side, curling up on the king-sized bed, the pillow soft at her cheek. The afternoon light is filtered by the curtains, makes a soft golden glow around the baby that sleeps peacefully, sprawled on her little belly.

Her daughter.

Even two weeks of being home with Neve, of touching her and feeding her and - since three days ago - rocking her back to sleep, have not quite erased the sense of wonder in Beckett's heart.

Neve moves, little fists scrunching, feet kicking, and Kate holds out a hand, runs her index finger along the baby's back. The girl quiets almost immediately, mouth falling open as she burrows deeper into the soft baby cover, but Kate doesn't take her hand back.

She craves any sort of contact with her daughter. It should scare her, the neediness, the dependence that doesn't ease up, but she can't make herself care. She will get up in the middle of the night with no complaint, even when she's dizzy with the lack of sleep, groggy with the painkillers.

She already missed out on so much. She wasn't conscious for her baby's first breath, she doesn't get to have that little mouth open hungrily at her breast. She couldn't even pick up Neve on her own until three days ago, had to make Castle get up with her every time-

"Kate?"

She hums softly, turns her head to see him pad into the bedroom. He pauses for a moment, taking her in; his mouth curves into an irresistible smile when his eyes land on Neve.

"Napping together?"

Beckett smiles back and eases onto her back, holds out her hand for him. They seem to have reached some sort of truce - not that there was ever a war, of course. Castle is much too understanding, too quick to forgive, even when she snaps at him or ignores him for hours on end. It's mostly the exhaustion speaking, the frustration, but she's aware that she hasn't been...the best partner lately.

He's been having nightmares, dealing with stuff on his own, and she's been too focused on Neve to ask him about it.

Maybe today she can step up and be better. Be what he deserves.

He comes to sit at her side, the mattress dipping with his weight, and he leans in slowly to brush his mouth to hers, once, twice. His lips are soft, warm, and Kate curls a hand at his elbow to keep him there, smiling against her in the gentle light.

"It's almost time to leave for your physical therapy," he murmurs.

Oh. She holds back a sigh, reluctant to leave the cocoon of their bed, their quiet bubble.

Yes, she knows that in the grand scheme of things she'll have to go back to the precinct sometime, and that's not going to happen until she's one hundred percent again. But the impatience she felt before Neve was born, the craving for dead bodies and clues and her murder board - that's gone. Vanished. At least for now.

And if it takes months for her to get back to the 12th...well, that will just mean more time spent with her daughter, watching Neve grow and learn, instead of being out in the streets with people shooting at her.

She can live with that.

"Kate?"

She realizes she's closed her eyes, opens them again at the soft nudge in Castle's voice. The concern, the expectation in his gaze makes her swallow her tentative words - _maybe I could skip therapy today_- and she presses her mouth together, gives a small nod.

"Yeah," she says, bending her right elbow so she can push herself up. "I'm coming."

* * *

She doesn't want him with her in rehab, so instead he just hangs out with the nurses, showing off his alert, beautiful baby girl. He knows most of the staff on this floor now - there's Alison, the red-haired nurse who reminds him of his daughter, with her bright smile and her youthful face, Shania, the thirty-something intern who hides a soft heart behind her blunt manners, Jessica, the physical therapist who is also a mother of three.

They all gravitate around Neve when they have a free moment, playing with the baby or asking him how he's been doing, and Castle's social nature blossoms under the attention, concern releasing its hold on his heart.

He's still - yeah. Still worried.

It's stupid. Things have been much easier between him and Kate these past few days; she's a lot softer, more attentive, more herself. She's healing. And man, is he grateful for it. But he hasn't been able to shake the feeling that something's wrong, deep down, and he just can't tell what it is. He's been watching her - isn't he always? - and he's seen those little flashes of regret on her face at times, when she cradles Neve in her arms, the guilt that lurks in the shadows and occasionally surfaces in the line of her mouth.

She's been singularly unenthusiastic about her physical therapy, hasn't mentioned the precinct once in the last three weeks. Even when Lanie, Esposito, Ryan and Jenny came to the loft for dinner, he was the only one asking questions about their ongoing case.

It just - it feels off. Kate Beckett always has a plan, an end goal in mind, and she goes for it. She's vibrant and determined and a little ruthless sometimes, yes, but he loves that about her.

The whole time she was pregnant, he could have sworn her goal was to keep her life the same, go back to the precinct as soon as she could. But then why isn't she acting like it?

Jessica says something about what a good-looking baby his daughter is - oh, he knows - and Castle is dragged away from his thoughts, finds a smile for the doctor.

"She should star in movies or something," Jessica adds with a little laugh, holding out her finger within Neve's reach.

The baby, safely strapped to Castle's chest in her carrier, shoots her arm up and grabs Jessica's index; she makes a satisfied little sound in her throat and he can't help but laugh. There's something so very Beckett to her in that moment that he ducks his head to kiss her temple, the sweet smell doing him in.

"Yes, you're good," he murmurs against her skin, kissing her cheek, the tiny shell of her ear. "You're my girl, huh, Neve?"

She makes the sucking noise that he loves, that he firmly believes is her version of a kiss - despite Kate's snickering disbelief - and he melts completely, grinning like an idiot into his daughter's downy black hair.

When he lifts his head again, Beckett is slowly making her way along the corridor, nodding lightly to whatever her therapist is saying. Castle wasn't a fan of the guy at first (no, it doesn't have anything to do with Dr. Evans' spontaneous invitation for Kate to _call him Dave_, or the man's green, soulful eyes) but he has to admit that "Dave" has been nothing but kind and professional.

He observes the way Kate moves, a little less exhaustion to her face, he thinks, her feet not quite dragging like they usually do after a two-hour workout, and his heart lifts.

"Hey," she murmurs with a smile when she reaches them. Her eyes light up when she rests them on Neve, her hand coming up to brush against the girl's neck, and Rick feels that familiar clench of his gut, the almost painful gratitude.

"I'll see you tomorrow at twelve?" Dave asks, his voice solid and encouraging.

Beckett turns her face to the doctor, her smile fading a little, but her answer sounds steady and sure on her lips. "Yes."

"Good," the doctor says, extending his approval to Castle, his warm eyes encompassing all three of them. "Good. Have a good time with your family until then."

"Thanks," Rick answers at the same time as Kate does. They share a soft, laughing look, Beckett's lashes fluttering down in that near-blush that he loves, and Castle tangles his fingers with hers, pulls her toward the door, eager to have her all to himself again.

* * *

"I didn't know we were feeding a whole regiment," Kate says with an arched eyebrow as she lifts the lid and sets it on the table, getting a look at the insane amount of risotto that Castle made. She glances across at him, her mouth pressed tight against the smile that threatens, but Rick only shrugs, his eyes light and unapologetic.

"It's good to have leftovers," he says. "Nothing to do but heat them up, and here you are with a lovely, healthy lunch. Or well, dinner."

They're going to be eating risotto all week at this rate, she thinks, eyeing the quantity left in the pot. He's right, though - they're often exhausted when comes the time to make dinner, so having food ready in the fridge will come in handy.

"Lovely and healthy, huh?" she echoes, feeling that delicious spark in her chest, the will to tease. She had a good day today: slept until nine this morning and then played with Neve for a while this afternoon. She can still feel the stitches, but there's no pain tonight. "And how's your ego doing, Castle?"

He grins at her, unfazed. "You're the one who said, I quote, _wow, Rick, this is the best risotto I've eaten in_ forever-"

"I did_ not_ say forever," she interrupts, trying to scold even as a laugh trembles in her throat at the terrible imitation. "And I most certainly didn't use that ridiculous voice."

"You're saying my voice is ridiculous, Beckett?" He drops it to a rumble on purpose, makes her skin tingle with awareness. But she won't let him see.

She drops her eyes back to the risotto, makes a noncommittal noise in her throat as she decides against a second helping after all, puts the lid back on. "I don't know, Rick. I've heard you squeak in front of a tiny little spider; it wasn't exactly impressive."

Pointedly not looking at him, she takes the pot back to the kitchen, dropping it onto the counter before she turns to reach in the cupboard, grab a container-

And of course Castle is in her way, his arm snaking around her waist before she can react, his mouth skimming her ear hotly as he pulls her to him.

"And I've heard you moan in my bed and beg for mercy," he husks, his fingers sliding under her shirt, so warm. "Yet you don't hear me complaining."

Kate swallows, struggles to keep her eyes open. "Our," she corrects, hears the breathless want in her own voice.

"What?" He's not really listening, nuzzling into that sensitive spot at her neck, and she gasps softly when he touches his tongue to her skin.

"Our bed," she murmurs, her fingers fisting on his shirt. "Not just yours anymore." And with that she pushes him away, smirking at the look of utter disappointment on his face. "Don't give me those eyes. You go check on our daughter, Castle, while I start the dishes. And if Neve's asleep, then-"

"Then?"

She has to smile at his eagerness, the unconcealed lust in his eyes.

"You might get lucky tonight," she says with a half-shrug. She skirts him, deliberately brushing their shoulders together, and laughs inwardly at his little groan while she heads back to gather their plates and glasses.

Men.

* * *

They found out early on that Neve doesn't like to be left on her own (that's the Castle in her, Kate says - the girl needs to be surrounded with people, with noise). But as long as they keep her with them in the living room, she'll fall asleep easily in her bouncer, and hardly rouse when he or Kate take her upstairs to her crib.

Yup. She's a pretty awesome baby.

Castle grins to himself, contours the couch to squat down in front of the infant seat. He set it down where she could see them, her little head starting to lift already, and he put low music on - partly because Neve's seemed to enjoy it before, partly because he wanted Kate to have a nice, relaxing meal.

He spent most of his afternoon writing, left her in charge of the baby, and even though she repeated time and time again that she was_ fine with it, Castle, she's my daughter too_, he just...thought it would be nice to show his gratitude through a lovingly homemade dinner.

"But you get Daddy now," he murmurs to his daughter, watching the big blue-grey eyes focus on him. Not asleep yet, huh? "Why are you still up, baby girl?" he asks, spreading his hand over the round little belly.

She parts her mouth in something of a smile, beats her little fist against his open hand, and he cocks his head at her, notices the way her feet are rocking in their cute purple socks with the bows. Oh. Oh, adorable. "Kate," he calls softly, not wanting to startle his daughter. "Come here."

There's a silence, and he hears water running in the kitchen - she must not have heard him. "I'll be right back," he tells Neve, stroking the miniature slope of her nose. "Don't you move."

He rushes through the living room, curls a hand at Kate's waist, nearly gets elbowed in the face.

"Castle," she hisses, more scolding than really angry. "I've told you before not to-"

"Shhh," he cuts her off with an excited smile, leading her towards the couch. "You need to come see Neve."

"What? Why? Is something wrong?"

He shoots her a surprised look over his shoulder. He forgets sometimes - she's doing this thing with him now, being a parent, and yes, that also means a constant, silly stream of concern. "No," he says, his heart warm and tender in his chest. "No, nothing wrong, Kate."

She sighs in relief and then they're rounding the couch, stopping to gaze down at the awake, happy baby in the seat. Kate opens her mouth to ask something, but he gestures for her to be silent, nods at Neve.

They watch their daughter together for a moment, the faint bounce of her arms and legs and head, and he can tell the second that Beckett catches on to what he wanted her to see.

"Is she-" Kate pauses, slowly dropping to her knees, a hand coming to wrap around the girl's feet. "Is she dancing to the music?"

"Yeah," he exults, following her to the floor. He wouldn't use the word _dance_, but Neve's definitely bobbing her head to the beat of the drums, feet moving to the pattern of the song. "She is. Cute, huh? Four weeks old and she's already a Springsteen fan."

Kate takes a long moment to answer, and when she does, when her eyes finally turn to him, they're a little misty. "Castle," she breathes, stunned and beautiful.

He smiles back, lets her fingers wrap around his wrist as she shifts closer. "Yeah," he says.

She parts her mouth, can't find her words, it seems; he leans in and brushes his lips to hers instead, a soft acknowledgment of everything they have, all that rich love shared between them.

She curls a hand around his neck and kisses back, a strong, fierce press of their mouths that leaves him a little dizzy, her breath hot and quick at his collarbone. "Thank you," she whispers, and he threads his fingers through her hair, doesn't know what to say.

Except maybe-

"I love you, Kate."

* * *

When he comes back from putting Neve to sleep, his throat a little raw from all that story-telling, Kate is reading in bed. He stops at the door and lets himself soak in that beautiful sight, the gentle light from the bedside lamp, the dark tumble of her hair over her shoulder.

It's the first time he's seen her read since the shooting - the first time she's not been too tired to do something other than sleep or care for Neve.

He grins and starts unbuttoning his shirt, shrugs it off before he goes for his belt. She's ignoring him pointedly, but it only makes him grin wider as he steps out of his pants, pushes his boxers down his hips. His pajamas are thrown over the foot of the bed, where he left them this morning, and he hesitates for a second to put on the wine-colored shorts and t-shirt. Kate always warns him about making assumptions-

And she's wearing that summer nightie that he likes, a white cotton that makes her look so young and innocent, so he decides to follow her lead. For now. It's not like those thin layers can't come off again.

He climbs onto the bed on his knees, then drops heavily next to her, his face right next to her shoulder so he can get a glimpse of the book. She twitches faintly, a frisson of awareness running up her body, and he realizes she wasn't pretending. She's really engrossed in her novel.

Oh.

"What're you reading?" he asks with a smile, testing the waters.

She exhales slowly, seems reluctant to turn her eyes to him. "_Kafka On The Shore_," she says.

"Ohh, that's a good one," he comments, pleased that she's digging into his extensive library. She brought her own books to the loft, of course, and he had fun himself going through her stacks, stumbling onto unexpected treasures (like, wow, an original copy of Camus' _Outsider_). "You like it?"

"Hmm, not sure yet," she answers with - at last! - a ghost of a smile. "It's weird. I have no idea where the story's going."

"And that's all the beauty of it," he insists, remembering how excited he was when he first read it. It was a couple years back - maybe five or six, actually - but the strangeness of the book has remained with him. "The not knowing, the wondering. That's the best part, Beckett."

She rolls her eyes and looks at him, a little laughing, a lot tender. "Of course you would think that. But I like knowing what to expect, Castle. Knowing what I'm in for."

"You're no fun," he murmurs with a false pout, playfully pressing his nose to her shoulder. But the shadow that falls over her face is real, all too real, and he remembers too late his own moronic words from two years ago, when he thought she didn't love him back. _Fun and uncomplicated_ - isn't that what he called that flight attendant whose name he can't recall now? "Kidding, Kate," he says quickly, desperate to fix this. "I was kidding."

"Yeah," she breathes, but her jaw is still tight, her eyes carefully averted from his.

Damn him. "You - you thinking of stopping by the precinct any time soon?" he asks, struggling to change the subject. "Cause I think Ryan and Esposito are missing you pretty bad - they haven't said it in so many words, but-" his voice trails off at the look on her face.

"You trying to get rid of me, Castle?" she asks quietly. It could be a joke, could be her teasing him, if it weren't for the hurt that shimmers in her eyes.

Whoa. Shit. "No. _No_. Of course not. Kate - you just seemed to feel better today, and I was wondering if you'd been thinking about-"

"About going back to work? When my daughter's barely four weeks old? No, I haven't. I'm sorry if you're already sick of me, Castle, but you're the one who insisted on me moving in-"

"I'm not sick of you!" he interrupts, his voice rising at the injustice of it all. "I was merely mentioning a friendly visit to Ryan and Espo-"

"Like hell you were. You think I don't know you by now? There's no such thing as_ merely mentioning_ with you, Rick. You always have a hidden agenda - and right now it sure feels like you're trying to kick me out of your space."

He gapes at her, indignation stealing his words. How can she - he was just- "Are you kidding me?" he says slowly, anger bubbling in his chest. "_I'm_ trying to kick you out of my space? You're the one who won't _marry me_, Kate."

She stares at him, her eyes so dark, unreadable, and his heart drops like a stone. Shit, how did it get to this?

"Marriage, really? That's what you want to be bringing up right now?"

He closes his eyes for a moment, his throat squeezing, can't figure out a way to salvage the situation. "I want you in my home," he murmurs eventually, hears the chagrin in his own voice. "I want you in my life. I - I thought I'd made that clear."

She lets out a long breath, and he opens his eyes to see her pushing her hair back, regret flickering across her face. "You have," she whispers. He waits, hopeful, but she doesn't offer anything more. She just watches him for a moment, her mouth pressed together, until finally she leans in and brushes a delicate kiss to his cheek. "Goodnight, Castle," she says, and she turns off the light.


	5. Chapter 5

Castle stumbles awake, his mind tripping all over itself, unable to focus. The room is dark, that thick, middle-of-the-night black, and clearly something is wrong with his brain if it thought this was time to get up.

He blinks fuzzily, rolling over to his other side, and he's about to close his eyes again when he hears it.

The baby monitor. Kate's soft voice is meshing with Neve's little sucking sounds, the whole scene so quiet that it's surprising he roused at all, and he rubs a hand down his face, tries to remember the last time he was the one to get up and feed their daughter.

Last night was all Kate, wasn't it? He was up early in the morning, but-

Damn it. He wishes she would wake him.

Rick pushes himself up with a groan, feels the rebellion of his whole body, the roll of his stomach and the tremble of his legs. He pauses with his feet flat against the hardwood floor, body gathered at the edge of the bed, and he closes his eyes for a second.

Right. He can do this.

_3:23am_, the alarm reads, red numbers taunting him in the dark. He suppresses a moan and gets onto his feet, reaches for a t-shirt that he pulls over his head.

He might feel like absolute crap right now, but he has to remember - Kate must feel ten times worse. She was _shot _three weeks ago, for god's sake; she needs to be in bed, recuperating, not upstairs rocking their daughter back to sleep.

With that certainty firmly anchored in his mind, he walks through the living-room, nearly crashing into the couch before he makes his way upstairs.

He passes Alexis's bedroom, feels the usual pinch of wistfulness at his heart when he thinks of her, all the way in Scotland, an ocean between them. They talk on Skype every week, of course, and Alexis has said a hundred times how impatient she is to come home and see Neve. Only two more weeks now.

He still thinks he was right to insist on her going - not just for Alexis, but because Kate was so nervous about the whole pregnancy thing, so hesitant that it could only be good for them to have a few weeks alone with their baby. Time to adjust and to fall into the new dynamics of their family before Alexis came home.

He just didn't know it would also be time for Beckett to recover from a bullet wound.

The door to Neve's bedroom is open. He takes a step inside and pauses, arrested by the tender tableau made by his daughter and his-

Partner. He sighs, their fight from last night coming back to him, and hesitates. Maybe he should just leave her alone, go back downstairs before she can notice him. But he can't tear his eyes away.

Kate is sitting in the rocking-chair that they bought together when they were decorating the room and arguing over colors; the soft glow of the nightlight paints her face with shadows, the dark sweep of lashes over her cheeks, the gentle curve of her smile as she strokes her fingers across Neve's round belly.

The empty bottle rests on the chest of drawers at her left, and the baby in her arms seems to be dozing off. The realization that she could already be back in bed pushes him forward after all, his steps muted by the thick grey carpet.

"Kate," he says in a low voice, trying not to startle her as he squats down.

She lifts her eyes to him, the serenity in them contradicted by the exhaustion that lines her face. "Hey."

"Want me to take her?" he asks, nodding to their daughter and brushing his hand over Neve's tuft of black hair. It's so amazingly soft.

"Hm, no," Kate answers, her gaze traveling back to the tiny fists, the sleep-slack face. "I'm good."

He sighs inwardly, tries to figure a way out of this that doesn't involve them fighting. It's three thirty in the morning; he's got no fight in him, and from the look on Kate's face, she doesn't either.

"You should've woken me," he says, going for light-hearted and doing a decent job, he thinks.

He skims her forearm, cants closer despite himself, unable to resist her pull, the entrancing melange of her and their baby's scents.

"I don't mind," she murmurs, but she leans in too, rests her forehead to his. He feels absurdly grateful for it.

Still he can't help but notice the way she holds back, keeps her left shoulder out of the way. She's in pain - or at least in enough discomfort that she's being careful. Jeez, Kate.

"You need sleep," he says gruffly, and he feels more than he hears the laugh she hums in response.

"Pot calling the kettle black, Castle?" she teases quietly, bumping her nose into his.

He grunts. Sure, he's tired, but nevertheless - it's his turn. And she's changing the subject.

"I'm not recovering from a bullet wound," he huffs testily, can't help himself. She tenses against him and he immediately wants to take the words back.

"You're stealing my bonding time with my daughter," he tries again, lets her feel his smile as he kisses her shoulder. "That what you wanna do, Beckett? Deprive a poor old man of the little things that give him joy?"

She chuckles, unwillingly he thinks, and shakes her head at him.

"Fine," she gives in with a sigh. "You can have her." He holds out his arms and she deposits Neve against his chest, kisses the baby's forehead.

"Good night, sweet girl," she whispers, and before she can move away he snakes a hand around her neck, captures her mouth in a warm, pressed-lips kiss.

He feels the cool, silvery touch of her fingers at his neck, shivers into it, the press of her tongue at his bottom lip startling him. Oh, oh, Kate.

She rocks back on her heels, breaking the kiss, and he licks his lips in pleasure; her soft laugh resonates in the room.

"Night, Castle," she breathes out, and then she leaves, her slim figure vanishing in the dark hallway.

"Night," he echoes too late, a little stunned, hope licking at his heart.

Well. That went better than he expected.

* * *

The next morning, Kate wakes only moments before the baby monitor comes to life with Neve's steady babble. She smiles, stretching in the comfortable dimness of their bedroom, grits her teeth against the pull of the fresh scars. Castle is out cold beside her, his breath heavy and warm at her shoulder, so she's careful to keep quiet as she slides out of bed, turns off the monitor.

When she steps into the study the sunlight is pouring through the window, the new day spilling bright and golden at her feet. She takes a minute to soak it in, let it permeate her closed eyelids, emotion catching in her throat.

So beautiful. Just like the man who was just lying in bed with her, and last night-

She exhales slowly, swallows it down for now, and goes upstairs for her daughter. Climbing the steps leaves her breathless once more, but at least the pain in her abdomen is down to nothing now. Her shoulder still throbs when she overworks it, the ghost of the stitches haunting her skin; she doesn't mind as long as she can gather Neve in her arms, keep her baby close.

Speaking of which. Her daughter parts her mouth and wriggles her arms and legs when Kate comes into her vision, eager and adorable, and Beckett picks her up slowly, making sounds she never expected to come out of her own mouth. "Yeah, hello, sweetheart," she breathes, her heart melted at the baby's enthusiastic greeting, the round lips warm and soft at her collarbone. "Yes, I'm happy to see you too."

Feathering her lips over Neve's ear, that silky, delicate shell, she turns to the changing table, lays her daughter down. Flipping open the snaps at the crotch of the pale green onesie, reaching for a clean diaper even as she undoes the tape of the used one - the moves have become so familiar that she performs them without thinking, the girl's happy temper making the whole task almost pleasant.

Who would've thought?

Kate Beckett is not only good at changing diapers, but she even enjoys it.

Digging her teeth into her bottom lip even as her smile sneaks through, Kate runs her fingers over the crease where Neve's thigh meets her plump little body, watches the shiver run through her daughter, the round mouth open wide in enjoyment. "Uh-huh," she murmurs, snapping the garment shut and taking the baby in her arms. "You already wish you could laugh, don't you?"

A sucking noise answers her and Kate finds herself chuckling, her chest so tight. "Yeah, I know you're hungry. Me too. Time for breakfast, baby girl."

* * *

When Castle stumbles out of his study at eight thirty, eyes still heavy with sleep, the delicious smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes surrounds him, teases him into awareness. He stands there stupidly and watches Kate move around in his kitchen, memories of long ago dredged up by the way she scraped her hair into a bun, the red hoodie open over her white nightgown.

Neve's bouncer rests on the table, oriented to the kitchen, and Rick drags his feet forward, his heart warming when his eyes land on his baby girl. "Hey there," he says gruffly, running a finger down Neve's side in the way that makes her squirm. It doesn't fail; she makes a high-pitched, delighted noise and drops the heart-shaped rattle she was playing with, her eyes opening wide at him. "You like that, don't you," he drops with a grin, leaning in to kiss that soft spot between her neck and her shoulder. The so-small hand hits his cheek, hardly any strength to it, but he catches it anyway and covers it with kisses, growling a little because he loves that round, stunned look that comes over her face.

"You'll scare her," Kate says from behind him, a laughing note to her voice that contradicts her words. He straightens up and spins to her, catches her with an arm at her waist, a kiss at her cheekbone.

"Hi," he murmurs, breathing her in, and her body answers him first, a long shiver that fills him with delight.

"Hi," she says back, feathering her lips over his jaw, his mouth before she moves apart. "Made you breakfast." The look on her face is hard to identify, a mixture of uncertainty and pride that he hasn't often seen on her.

"I can smell that," he answers with a smile, squatting down to pick up Neve's toy. He glances at the kitchen, the stunning display of Kate's culinary skills, and suddenly he remembers. "Oh, it's Sunday, isn't it? Sunday brunch."

Relief flickers in her eyes - relief that he remembers? - and she smiles too, gorgeous in the sunlight that streams through the windows. "Yeah, that."

Her mother's Sunday brunch. He watches her dance back into the kitchen, almost no stiffness to her step today, turning off the heat and sliding the eggs into plates and reaching for the bacon, the pancakes. She's trying to tell him something, and if he were a little more awake, his mind a little clearer, he'd already have caught up, but-

"If you can just move Neve?" she asks, walking past him to set the plates on the table. "And then sit, Castle. I'll do the rest."

"I can help-" he objects, but she gives him a look, tender and imperious and so, so strong_._ He reaches for Neve, lifting up the seat and sliding the baby to the end of the table, and he sits down.

Waits on Beckett.

* * *

Kate herself eats very little, nibbling on a strawberry before she takes a bite of pancake, goes back to her eggs and ignores the crispy bacon. Her real pleasure is to watch Castle, though, and in that she indulges, her chest softening with every flutter of his eyelids, the happy sounds that vibrate in his throat.

She can do that at least. There _are_ ways in which she can be good to him, even if it's hard sometimes to remember.

She takes a sip of coffee - mm, black and delicious and with only the slightest hint of cream, of sugar - and then turns her eyes to Neve. Her mouth curves into an irresistible smile when she realizes that the baby, too, is watching Castle feast on his breakfast, looking completely entranced by it.

"Careful, Rick," she says teasingly, holding out her hand to stroke her daughter's little fist. "You have an audience."

He looks over at them, eyes so blue and open in the morning light, his love laid out at their feet. Beckett has to suck in a sharp breath when he smiles, beautiful, devastating. "Have you noticed?" he says, gulping down his mouthful to nod at their daughter. "Her eyes look different today. Greener."

Grateful for the chance to gather herself, settle her madly-beating heart, Kate pretends like she hasn't seen, leans in to tease Neve's cheek. "Look at me, beautiful," she coos, can't help herself. After a moment the girl responds, tilting her head towards her mother, and yeah, wow, here it is again.

Instead of that clear, undefined blue-grey shade, the baby's eyes are distinctly green this morning, with tiny flecks of brown and blue scattered across the iris. So very lovely. "Do you - do you think it's the light?" Kate asks, has to swallow down some of that ridiculous awe.

"Hm, could be. Alexis's eyes were always blue, never changed once, so this is new for me as well," he says. When Kate glances back at him he's smiling at her around his coffee mug, his eyes adorably crinkled.

"I wouldn't mind at all if she had your eyes," Beckett breathes, the words leaving her mouth before she can think better of them.

He seems surprised, and a little mushy, too, emotion crawling over his face. "No, yours," he says softly. "I'd rather she have yours. You have such beautiful eyes, Kate. They're never the same, always changing. Always a mystery."

She parts her mouth, doesn't know what to say to this man, this man she doesn't deserve, so romantic and tender and _in love_-

The clatter of Neve's rattle against the glass table breaks the moment, the girl's excited cries finishing the job, and Kate sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, her laughter spilling out anyway. Mirth shimmers in Castle's eyes, too, makes it okay to turn to the baby and put off their conversation.

For now.

* * *

"I want you here," he declares without preamble the moment Neve is out for her nap, striding through the living room to the armchair Kate is curled on. She lifts her head to him slowly, and he sees nervousness in her eyes, but knowledge too, like she's been anticipating this conversation as much as he has. Good. "You know I do."

"Castle-" she says, starting to rise, but he drops onto the couch next to her, refrains from spreading a hand over her knee because he knows she doesn't like to be touched while they do...this.

Mend fences. Or well, try.

"I wasn't trying to get rid of you," he continues, ignoring her parted mouth, the words gathered on her tongue. "Jeez, Kate. I would never do that. I _swear _to you-"

"I know," she cuts him off, her voice a little choked as she leans closer. "Rick, I know-"

"But." He soldiers on, needs to say this. Before she absolves him or claims responsibility for it all. "You were right - I did have a...hidden agenda, like you said. I thought - maybe - if you went back to the 12th, even if you were just having lunch with the boys, that you'd remember how much you like it, how much your work matters to you." Her lips are pressed tight now, her eyes intent as she listens, but he can't tell what she's thinking. "I don't really understand what's going on, Kate. Before you were shot, the whole time you were pregnant with Neve, you seemed so determined to keep your life the same, go back to work as soon as you could, and...I got that. It made sense to me, because you're not one to sit around, and you're so damn good at what you do. I was okay with that. But you - you haven't been talking to me, Kate, and you haven't said a word about the precinct, and-" Shit, his voice catches like he's a fucking teenager afraid that his girlfriend is going to break up with him; he has to close his eyes, draw in a slow breath.

He feels her before he sees her, her knees warm and tight around his thighs, her hair brushing his shoulder when she presses her lips to his cheek. "Castle," she murmurs, and there's so much regret, so much _pain _in the sound.

"I'm just so worried," he confesses, can't stop now. "I'm worried that you feel so guilty for what happened, for being shot, that you're trying to make up for it by staying home with Neve, with me. But this isn't gonna work - it's never gonna work if you make yourself miserable, Beckett, and one day you'll wake up and realize that and..."

_Leave me._ The words stay struck in his throat, but the following silence is heavy with them anyway, and he can tell Kate understands from the gentle caress of her hands around his face, the way she gasps out his name.

"Maybe that's why you won't marry me," he adds, desperately trying to make it sound like it's a joke. But he hears himself; he's pathetic. "Maybe you're just waiting for the right time-"

"Castle." This time her voice is stern, _enough of the drama_, and he's actually grateful for it. "Leave the marriage thing out of it, will you?" she says, a little softer. She eases back, her ass sliding down his thighs, and tucks her hair behind her ears.

"I'm sorry," she offers after a moment, her eyes shimmering with feeling as she lifts them to him. "I should've realized-" the words trail off and she knits her brow, shakes her head at herself. It's adorable the way she does that. "I should've talked to you, Castle. Sometimes I get the feeling that you can actually read my mind, and I just - start expecting you to, and that's wrong. I know it's wrong."

She pauses, giving him a hesitant look, and he smiles encouragingly, curls a hand around her knee. He didn't fall in love with smoking hot Detective Beckett of the NYPD; he fell in love with this woman right here, the woman who was hurt so badly and had to build walls around her heart to protect herself, and yet somehow decided to let him in.

"It's not...it's not guilt," she tells him, fiddling with the top button of his shirt. "The reason why I haven't been talking about the precinct. I don't - I mean, yeah, I would never have taken that bullet if I hadn't been at the 12th, and it's hard not to feel like it's my fault, but - Rick."

He watches her, forgets to breathe.

"I'm here because I want to be. And if I wasn't recovering from a GSW, if I was whole and able to run around - I would still be here. With you and Neve. I would still be _home_, Castle." Her eyes glitter, dark and rich, a mirror for what he feels. "I can't explain how it happened, but that person I was before, so obsessed with going back to work?" He hears the smile in her voice, and it's wonderful what it does for his peace of mind. "Well, it's not me anymore. I'm not sure where she went, or if she's coming back, but all I want now is to use that maternity leave and spend the time with my daughter." Her mouth quirks up and she leans in slowly, lays a delicate kiss upon his lips. "I mean _our_," she corrects in a whisper. "Our daughter."

His heart is going to burst.

His hands come up of their own volition, sliding under the cotton of her t-shirt to find the supple skin of her sides, and she huffs a laugh, her breath so warm against his. "Okay with you, then?" she asks, and it takes him a few seconds to understand what she means.

What, her explanation? Her plan to stay home with him, take care of Neve together?

"More than okay," he growls, his love a fierce thing in his chest, desperate to be let out. "Kate. So much more than okay," he repeats, all the stupid words deserting him, and the only thing left is to take her mouth, part his lips and slide his tongue against her in renewed promise and forgiveness.


	6. Chapter 6

Mmm. He'd almost forgotten how nice love in the afternoon is, the illicit, delicious taste of it, the languid aftermath, tangled together in the sheets. He watches the spill of Kate's hair on the pillow, the golden sunlight catching on her nearly-blonde strands, limning her with fire.

His muse.

"I love you," he says, and he drinks in the stretch of her smile, the soft glow of her eyes.

So beautiful, always.

"I love you too, Castle," she murmurs, and she rolls towards him, places a hand on his chest and a long kiss at the corner of his mouth. "Sorry I haven't told you lately. I haven't been doing a very good job, I know."

He beams under her lips, the simple admission instantly earning his forgiveness. "But you _have _told me," he says, pausing for a second and laughing inwardly at the sharp rise of her eyebrows. "With your eyes. Everyday."

That gets a chuckle out of her, unwilling as it may be, and she shakes her head at him. "You're such a sap, Castle, I swear."

"And you love it," he grins, spreading his palm at her ribs. She shivers but doesn't avert her eyes, keeps her clear gaze on his face, and moments like this, he thinks, totally make up for all the times she's being opaque and stubborn and snappish.

Moments when she bares her soul to him.

* * *

He might be right. Shit, he _is _right, isn't he? She does love it. Sometimes.

A lot of times.

His hand trips down and her hips buck, a moan trembling on her lips.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, worship in his voice. She's so grateful for the way he loves her, how he doesn't even seem to notice the differences in her body, the extra pound she still has to shed. She didn't put on that much weight during her pregnancy, because she kept busy for so long, but Castle and his rich homemade food haven't been helping.

She needs to start running again.

Kate closes her eyes when Castle's mouth ghosts her neck, the heat of his body stretched close. She's thoroughly exhausted from their previous round, but she can still enjoy this, the aimless, quiet wander of his touch.

"Would it make it better-" she starts, gasps at the warm slide of his tongue.

"What?" he hums against her skin.

"If I went to the precinct, had lunch with the guys..." her voice trails off, her thoughts scattering when his lips brushes that spot under her earlobe.

"Yes?" She can hear his amusement contained in the word. Bastard.

"Would it - help convince you that this," she smoothes her hand down his chest, slowly, watches it ripple in his eyes, "is what I want? That I'm not sticking around out of some misplaced sense of guilt?"

He takes a deep breath and abandons her neck, propping himself up on his elbow. His eyes, a dark blue in the afternoon light, rest on her for a moment before a small smile plays on his face. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, it would."

She nods, relieved at his honesty. "I'll go tomorrow, then," she decides in a murmur. "But on my own, Castle. Not bringing you or Neve-"

"That's fine," he cuts her off, nudging their noses together. "I can stay here with baby girl, Kate. No issue."

"Good," she sighs, venturing her fingers through his thick hair. It's getting long again, flops across his forehead, and maybe he should think of getting it cut-

"Oh no," he says suddenly, making her lift her eyes in question. "Tomorrow - shit, I completely forgot. Gina's got a bunch of meetings planned that I'm supposed to attend." He groans at the thought and Beckett can't help laughing, arching to kiss his chin.

"You might wanna sound a little more enthusiastic when you're at Black Pawn," she teases, gives a little nip of her teeth just to hear him growl.

"Means I'll be gone all day," he whines, but his body drops back onto hers, warm and solid and completely male. Mmm, Castle.

"It's fine," she offers breathlessly, rocking into him. "I can go to the 12th on Tuesday. Doesn't - ah - doesn't matter, Rick," she moans, biting her lip.

Maybe - oh, maybe she _could_ go for round two after all-

But that very thought is interrupted by sound rising from the baby monitor, the eager cries of a too-awake little girl, and Castle makes a cute, disappointed noise, his face falling into the crook of Kate's neck.

Beckett only grins, the voice of her daughter too irresistible for her to do anything else.

"Get off me, Castle," she orders, nudging him with her knee. "My turn."

* * *

Castle's place is great. She always liked it, the open space, the warm tones of his - _their_ - bedroom, the luxurious laundry room with its washer and dryer. It didn't take a lot of convincing for her to agree that it was the best place to raise their child, even though it did break her heart a little to say goodbye to her apartment.

They talked about finding a place of their own, of course, but it was - there was already so much to think about, and although she would never have admitted it at the time, Beckett was also scared out of her mind by the idea of a baby with him. Richard Castle.

So the house, like a number of other things, got pushed back to a hazy, faraway future, and she just moved in with him.

And she likes it, for the most part. The loft is good.

Sometimes she just feels like getting out of it.

They had a pretty crappy August month, heavy rain alternating with such brutal heat that Castle panicked at the mere thought of taking Neve outside, but the last couple days have been better. Today a thin blanket of clouds is letting the sun through, and when Kate opened the window in the study this morning, the air was nice and fresh.

So she puts on a light summer jacket and then straps the baby carrier around her shoulders, adjusts it so it fits nicely against her chest. Castle must have used it last; he's so much broader than she is, and all the straps feel wrong.

She's not usually one for wasting money, but maybe they _should_ buy a second carrier so they each have their own. She considers for a second before shaking her head at herself - really, it's terrible the influence that man has on her - and reaches down to lift Neve from her bouncer.

The girl is awake, her eyes still that lovely shade of green and dancing around curiously. Kate's grandmother had green eyes too, but they were a transparent, water-like color, completely unlike the rich hue of Neve's irises. _Like miniature planets,_ Castle said the night before, and the description is actually rather fitting.

Kate slides her daughter into the carrier, brushing her lips to the smooth forehead and lingering for a moment, caught in the baby's scent. "I don't care what color your eyes are," she murmurs, gently bumping their noses together. "You'll always be beautiful to me."

Neve bounces happily in answer, her foot brushing Beckett's ribs, and Kate laughs, all that breathless emotion dissipating in a second. "Yeah, you're right," she says, reaching for her phone on the counter. "I'm getting sappy. But that's all your daddy's fault, baby girl."

Castle is probably not getting out of those Black Pawn meetings any time soon, but she still shoots him a quick text to tell him that she's taking Neve to the park, shakes her head when she sees that he's changed the photo on her screen again. His own goofy face is staring back at her now, their daughter's head nestled in the crook of his neck, and despite what she just said about being sentimental, Kate can feel her heart softening.

Okay, enough. Right. The park.

She grabs her keys from the coffee table, slides her phone into her pocket, tries to think of what she might need. They won't be gone so long, really, and she fed Neve half an hour ago, so they should be fine.

She remembers to pocket a hat for the baby in case the sun truly comes out, collects her own sunglasses from Castle's office, and then, finally, they're stepping outside.

The temperature in the street is perfect, warm but not too much, and when she reaches the subway stop she's tempted to just keep walking. She hesitates for a few seconds, but the appeal of the park is greater in the end - the cool shadows of the trees moving with the breeze, the quiet, the people relaxing in the grass.

Neve is dozing in the carrier, her round cheek resting over her mother's chest; Kate strokes her fingers to the black hair and takes the stairs down to the subway station, abandoning the sunshine for now.

* * *

Castle escapes from the meeting before his brain can fully disintegrate, muttering a lie about needing the bathroom. He glances back to make sure no one's watching, and instead of taking a right he turns left, his feet impatiently guiding him to his hiding place.

He discovered it years ago, one day when Gina was driving him nuts. It's only a small recess in the corridor, but it's beautifully hidden by a houseplant that has been thriving since, its large, heart-shaped leaves making the most perfect screen.

"Hi, Ophelia," he murmurs as he slides into the space between the plant and the wall. He could swear the leaves give a slight tremble in response to his greeting.

Castle squats down and then drops to his ass, settles comfortably, his back to the wood panels. He digs his phone out of his pocket, checking for messages, lets out a little sigh when his hope is disappointed.

Oh well. He can call her, right? He's gotta be a grown-up here, stop waiting for her to take that first step.

He speed-dials Kate and then wedges his phone between his shoulder and his ear, waiting for the usual pattern of long beeps. He's surprised when Beckett's voice greets him instead.

"_Kate Beckett's phone. I can't answer at the moment, but please leave a message and I'll make sure to call you back."_

Huh. He hangs up, tries again. With the same result.

Could be that her phone's battery is dead, but he thinks he saw her plug it in this morning. Maybe she's just upstairs playing with Neve and she didn't hear her phone.

Maybe the two of them are taking a nap together.

The thought of Kate and their baby sprawled on the bed makes him wistful, a sharp tug at his heart, and he checks the time on his watch. A little after three.

He's been here since nine; he's grumpy because he didn't have a decent lunch, and he wants his family. He wants to go home.

Time to leave_, _he decides, shifting back onto his feet. He'll get Gina to reschedule that last meeting, whatever it was; she should know he's got much too short an attention span to sit through a day of useless talk.

He emerges from behind the plant, stealthy as a ninja-

To find Gina standing in front of him.

"How did you-" he gapes, feeling like a kid caught out of school. She tilts her head at him.

"Richard. Do you really think after all these years, I don't know your little hiding place?"

He tries not to look upset, but it's harder than he would've thought. _Come on, Castle. Remember the plan. _"Gina," he says, has to clear his throat. "I'm uh, having a family emergency. I have to go home. Really sorry to be stepping out on you," he adds, waving his phone at her as he makes an escape to the elevator.

Surprisingly enough, she doesn't try to stop him, only follows him to the lobby. "Family emergency, really?" she says, that unimpressed sneer to her voice. "What is it, the extraordinary muse can't figure out how to change a diaper?"

He shoots her a warning look and she sighs, throws her arms up - the Gina equivalent to _I take that back. _

_"_Fine," she says shortly as he steps into the lift. "We'll carry on without you, then. You know, Richard, you could at least pretend that you care what happens here. It's your job too."

"I do care," he answers simply, pressing the ground floor button. "I just trust you to act in my best interests."

The doors slide closed and he catches a glimpse of her face, that melange of frustration and pride that he's caused so many times.

And today won't be the last.

* * *

He's almost bouncing by the time he reaches his floor, so he pauses for a minute, tries to calm down enough that he won't get on Kate's nerves.

She's been doing so much better lately, but there are still days when he can tell her shoulder hurts, when she gets tired much quicker. He understands; it's just so hard for him to curb his natural energy, channel it in ways that won't make her want to kill him.

He knocks before using his keys, remembering the time when he surprised her and almost got his arm broken, but when he steps in the loft is eerily silent, the late afternoon light suffusing it with a particular sort of quiet.

"Kate?" he calls, shrugging off his jacket as he pushes the door closed with one foot.

His voice echoes and trails off unanswered. He moves into the living-room, has to shake off the memory of the first time he came home without Alexis, almost a year ago. Only a year ago - jeez, it's crazy how much things have changed since then. He has another baby girl now, a family with Kate Beckett...

Speaking of which.

Castle drops his laptop onto the couch, heads for their bedroom, wondering if Kate's asleep. She never was one for naps before they had Neve, and he's still not sure whether to ascribe that newly-developed habit to motherhood, or if it's just what her body needs to heal from that bullet wound.

Their room is empty. There's a flicker of concern in his heart and he tries to suppress it, banish the too-clear impression of Esposito's phone call. _Beckett's been shot._ They're just quietly playing upstairs and they didn't hear the door, he tells himself firmly as he sedately walks to the stairs. He's going to step into Neve's bedroom and they will be there, both of them, whole and beautiful, and he'll feel like an idiot.

Only, when he reaches the end of the corridor and tiptoes inside the nursery - no one is here. No baby in the bed, no Kate in the rocking chair. Almost like it never happened, like he made it all up, Beckett's soft face when she cradles their daughter in her arms, the look in Neve's eyes as he tickles her cute little belly-

He's ridiculous. He's being fucking ridiculous, so he sharply pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes deep, slowly uncurls his fist.

It's the middle of the afternoon, and Kate didn't expect him back until much later. Maybe she had an errand to run; maybe she just saw how nice the weather was and decided to take Neve on a walk. He needs to not be a moron, not call the boys and ask them to locate her via GPS. Instead he's going to be a man, and call her again, and maybe if she doesn't answer this time he'll be allowed to freak out a little.

Just a tiny bit.

So he dials her, a relieved sigh escaping him when it rings, and he breathlessly waits for her to answer.

"Hey," she picks up at last, a little breathless but a definite smile in her voice. "How's it going, Castle? Meetings killed you yet?"

He opens his mouth to speak, has to swallow against the pathetic lump in his throat.

"Castle?"

_Say something, you idiot. _"Yeah. I mean, no - I'm still alive," he says, attempting a chuckle that sounds wrong. "You?"

A beat. "I'm...alive too," she answers slowly, her voice rich with held back laughter. "The park was nice. Neve and I are exhausted now, and she's getting a little whimpery, but that's okay. Just hungry, I guess."

He leans back into the wall, heard pounding with gratitude. He didn't dream it up, any of it. "The park?" he asks distractedly, needing the sound of her again.

"Yeah. We took the subway, went to Central Park. Neve was fascinated with all the people - you should've seen her. I sent you a text, Castle."

"You did?"

"Before I left home. You didn't see it? And here I was thinking you spent all those meetings playing with your phone," she teases, and he can almost see her face, the way amusement makes her eyes twinkle.

"Not-uh, Kate Beckett," he answers, finally sillied out of his dark mood. "I work hard. They give me all those boring documents to read and sign at the bottom, and then sometimes I even have to say something deep You can't imagine the amount of effort - okay," he breaks suddenly, laughing, "not even I believe it."

"Uh-huh," Kate says, and from her tone he pictures her with that pressed-lips smile that he loves. "Gonna let you go, Rick. We're almost home. How much longer do you think your meetings will be?"

"Why?" he smirks. "You missing me, Beckett?"

"You kidding? I'm just asking so I know when to make my lovers leave."

He wants to laugh at that, he really does, but despite the years the image of Meredith straddling her director on their couch is still burned in his brain, tastes bitter in his mouth.

"Chill, Castle," Kate says quietly, reading him too well. "You know I'm not your ex-wife."

"Thank god," he jokes, but it's a little strangled, a little forced. He's still not sure how he feels about Beckett knowing this much about his first marriage; she teased the information out of him, all clever and smooth, and he didn't realize until it was too late. Well - at least his secrets are safe with her.

"Hey, you okay?" she asks. "Or do I need to send a photo of myself dressed in black leather to cheer you up?"

He grins widely, his love for her surging and nearly knocking him off his feet. "I don't know," he says. "I was gonna be a man and tell you I'd live, but now that you offered - I want that picture more."_  
_

She laughs in the phone, a warm, dark sound that makes him want her. "Then again, it might just make you awfully...distracted. I'm not sure Gina would like that." He hears a door in the background, indistinct voices, and then the recognizable _ping _of the elevator. Oh, good. Good.

She's coming home.

"Don't worry about Gina," he smirks, and he ends the call, heads for the door.

* * *

Kate walks out of the elevator without looking, a hand curled around Neve's head to soothe the baby's hungry sounds, the other struggling to get the keys out of her pocket without dropping her phone. She _almost has them_ when she bumps into someone and rocks back with a grunt, apologies on her lips-

And then she sees who she bumped into.

"Castle," she breathes out, surprised, even as her heart lifts at the smile on his face. He looks - well, _happy_.

"Hi there," he murmurs, reaching for her hand and relieving her from the keys as he presses a soft kiss to her mouth. She hums into it, a little awkward over the baby's head but still so very, very nice.

"You're home early," she sighs, her fingers curling at his waist.

"Hm, had enough of meetings," he answers, smiling. "I missed you guys too much."

"You did, huh," she says, can't help her own responsive smile. "Well, you can have your daughter back, Rick. My shoulder's had enough exercise for today."

She doesn't miss the flash of concern in his eyes, but he's on his best behavior and says nothing, simply lifts Neve from the baby carrier. "Hello, beautiful," he coos as he cradles the baby to his chest; the low rhythm of his voice is enough to pause the girl's complaining, if only for a moment.

Kate smiles to herself, brushes her hand over Rick's shoulder as they walk back into the loft together. He's got that ruffled look from sitting in meetings all day, like he's run his fingers through his hair, straightened his collar one too many times, and Beckett is like her daughter - a little hypnotized, a lot seduced.

"Oh, someone's hungry," he laughs, tracing the soft curve of the baby's cheek with a finger. Neve squirms, mouth opening, head tilting in response to the tickling touch, and Kate's heart stumbles, too much, too good.

What has she done to deserve any of this?

"You mind feeding her?" she asks, turning away to close the door, gather herself. "I'd like to take a shower, get changed."

"Course not," he answers easily, and Kate spins back to find him making ridiculous faces at their daughter, completely smitten. Oh, Castle. "I have a bottle ready, actually. Just gotta heat it up. So take your time, Kate. I've got this." And he wriggles his eyebrow at Neve, so fast that Beckett finds herself smothering a giggle. Jeez.

He shoots her an interested look, mouth lifting in something of a smirk, but she just rolls her eyes at him, heads for the bedroom instead of engaging. Silly man.

"I heard that," he exclaims from the kitchen, and she can't decide if he means the girly sound she made or if he just read her mind.

* * *

Kate steps out of the bathroom in her bra and panties, the towel hanging loosely from her shoulder, and tiptoes into the walk-in closet. Castle had to make space for her when she moved in - it's _insane_ the sheer amount of clothes the man owns - but he's never complained, never even joked about it.

He left all the choices up to her, and that's why their bedroom is now a strange combination of his stuff and hers, her elephants lined up on top of his drawers, her red velvet chair in the corner in lieu of the black, sober stool he had before. Their clothes are neatly piled up on opposite sides of the closet, his shirts hanging in front of her dresses, and the vision still comforts her after all those months.

It felt amazing at the time, to be in charge, to be given full power over the furniture arrangements when the rest of her life was...spiraling out of control. Of course she'd thought - hoped - that she and Castle would get there eventually, but her pregnancy felt like their relationship had taken an unexpected leap, like someone'd pressed fast-forward_ o_n her life and she didn't have the remote to slow it down.

And nothing drives Kate Beckett crazier than lack of control.

So it was both sweet and very smart of Castle to let her redecorate, especially since - knowing him, and the amount of attention he pays to detail - it must've felt excruciating for him to just sit there and say nothing. Silly, adorable man.

Next time they'll do it together, she decides, grabbing a comfortable pair of pants and a green shirt that they both like. Her hair drips slowly along her neck, and she quickly finishes toweling it dry, slips her clothes on before she ventures back into the living-room.

No one's here, but she's not really surprised. She took her time, just like Castle said, and he must be setting Neve up for a nap upstairs.

She climbs the stairs slowly, stealthily, nearly humming with pleasure. Today's been such a good day; she feels like herself again, like she can finally breathe without that ghost looming over her head.

The ghost of a future where she's not there for her daughter, where Neve has to fend for herself, has only her daddy to count on.

At the door Kate stops, holds her breath. Castle is singing. She can hear him through the half-closed door, the soft lull of his voice barely carrying to her, but if she listens very carefully she can make out some of the words.

Is he - is he singing _Tarzan?_

_"_No matter what they say_,"_ he hums, hitting every note just right, and yes, yes. He's singing a Disney song to their daughter. Beckett bites hard on her bottom lip, can't decide if she wants to laugh or melt.

She sneaks in after a few seconds, can't help herself, and finds his broad back tilted over Neve's crib. She steps closer, winds a careful arm around his waist, and he must have heard her because he doesn't jump, doesn't stop, just finishes the song with her mouth pressed to his shoulder.

Neve is fast asleep, Kate sees when she pushes on tiptoe to get a glimpse inside the bassinet. She feathers her lips over the strong cord of Castle's neck, that beautiful, steady pulse, and he turns his face to her, mouth skimming her eyebrow.

"Hey," he murmurs, such a deep, soothing sound. "Shower was good?"

"Oh, yeah," she sighs, her fingers slipping under his shirt, encountering warm skin. There's a distinctive hitch in his breath.

"How're you feeling?" he asks, his voice rough, edged with arousal. "You did a lot today, Kate. Going to the park, taking Neve - you gotta be careful, love."

She grins into his shirt, doesn't mind his concern as much when it's darkened with want. "I _was_ careful," she offers, nipping at his shoulder blade. He stiffens against her, all that strength hidden under his mild writer looks, and her body purrs in response. "See? Even saved some energy for this."

"You're amazing," he breathes, and then he's shifting in her embrace, his mouth finding hers in that devastating way of his, deep and sure and so damn hot. His tongue plays with hers, pushing and teasing before he retreats, and she can't help but chase after him, blood racing in her veins.

"Shit, Castle, I want you," she moans when they break off, has to muffle the sound of her own, needy voice into his chest. Their daughter, their daughter is sleeping-

"Yes," he agrees darkly, and without warning he lifts her up, an arm at her back, the other around her knees, carries her out of the bedroom.

She hooks an elbow at his neck and lets him - probably the fastest way to get back to their room without them knocking into anything. She uses the time to kiss the hollow of his neck, the underside of his jaw, delighting in the growl that builds in his chest, the slight falter in his step.

"Kate," he warns, and somehow his voice reminds her of earlier, on the phone.

How sad and lonely he sounded.

"Are _you_ okay?" she blurts out, a ribbon of guilt squeezing her heart. She didn't remember to ask- "On the phone," she explains when he looks at her in question. "You sounded a little - wistful there, Castle." To put it mildly.

He grunts in something like remembrance, and she pushes when he doesn't give her anything else. "Do you want to talk-"

"No," he huffs, half indignant and half...laughing? Laughing at her.

She realizes they've reached the bedroom a split second before he drops her onto the bed, collapsing with her onto the covers, his body heavy and familiar, an anchor.

"No talking," he groans against her shoulder, and his hand wanders, makes her arch on a gasp.

Oh, oh-

Okay. No talking.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **I'd like to thank everyone for their wonderful words of support and encouragement, and Cartographical and SparkleMouse for their much appreciated help. This is the last chapter, but probably not the last you'll see of Neve - I have an epilogue planned :).

* * *

He watches her drink his coffee the next morning with a stupid male pride that he does his best to keep off his face. From the way she smirks at him, he suspects it leaks out anyway. Neve is warm and squirmy in his arms, so after a moment he sets her down in her bouncer, gathering a few of her toys to play with. When coffee is over, though, it gets to the not-so-fun part - when he watches Beckett leave and he can't follow.

"It's only lunch with the boys, Castle," she insists, her lips in that pressed smile even as she shakes her head at him. "Lunch that you insisted I have. So I'm sorry, but you can't keep giving me those sad looks like I'm abandoning you. That's not how it works."

She's right, but it's excruciatingly hard to get his face under control, force his mouth into a smile. He does it anyway, must look unconvincing as hell because she rises on tiptoe and brushes a kiss to his lips, her hand light on his chest.

"Not gonna get shot, Castle," she murmurs, and he's tempted to say _You don't know that._

Wouldn't help, though. And it's not even - it's not even the main reason that his heart is squeezed tight in his chest.

"Better not," he husks against her mouth, going for light-hearted as his fingers stroke her hip. "Otherwise who'll help me eat all that risotto?"

She laughs, the sound rich and surprised on her lips, but her eyes rest on him for a moment, a thoughtful brown sprinkled with gold. She seems on the verge of saying something, but it never comes; she steps back, lashes fluttering at her cheeks, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"See ya, Rick," she says, and in a matter of seconds she's turned around, gone.

It takes everything he has to close the door after her.

* * *

Beckett walks into the 12th without a moment's hesitation, dropping brisk greetings to the sergeant manning the door, the cops she meets on her way up. The elevator is filled with people and she's grateful for that, how little space it leaves for her thoughts as well.

She doesn't want to be thinking too much.

She's the only one to disembark on the Homicide floor, and despite herself she pauses as she steps into the hallway, a cold sweat breaking over her body. She told the psychologist at the hospital that she hardly remembered getting shot, that the whole day was a blur - and it was true. At the time.

But walking into the bullpen for the first time since that day, Beckett unwittingly curls a hand around her stomach, a pitiful attempt to protect the life that is no longer there.

"Hey, Beckett!" Ryan greets when he spots her, blue eyes lighting up with an easy smile. He's leaning on his desk, phone in hand, looking sharp in his white shirt. "Good to see you. We just have two more phone calls to make and then we can head out. You mind?"

"No, of course not," she answers automatically, her fingers skimming the wood of her own desk as she rests her weight on it. "Guys, if you're busy, we can just reschedule-"

"Nah," Ryan insists with a little move of his hand that reminds her of Castle. "You're here, and we can break for lunch. Right, Javier?"

Esposito rolls his chair to face them, phone squeezed between his ear and shoulder. "Yes, Mrs. Mulberry," he says with a not-so-patient tone to his voice, but he's nodding at his partner's words, giving Beckett a crooked smile. "Yes, I understand that it was dark and you didn't have your glasses-"

The familiarity of the scene eases something in Kate's heart - how many times has she had those two call the witnesses, try to get something more out of one of them - and she thinks that if she keeps from glancing towards Gates's office, towards the spot where the bullet tore into her shoulder, she might just be okay.

Ryan starts taking frenetic notes in front of her, obviously listening to a chatty source; he looks rushed and overwhelmed and Beckett sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, feels something stir inside her chest. She remembers what it feels like, to have that drive, that sense of purpose, and that part of her that's been asleep slowly rouses again, rears its drowsy head.

Ah, crap.

"Detective Beckett." Gates's voice comes from Kate's side, warmer than it's ever been, and Beckett jerks her head, can't help the sharp clench of her heart. _You're not going to get shot, _she reminds herself sternly.

"Sir."

"It's very nice to see you here," the captain continues, offering Kate a smile. Wow. An actual smile. Her brown eyes sweep over the detective, her head tilting a little as she glances past Beckett, seems to be looking for something.

"You didn't bring your baby?" She asks at last, and if Kate didn't know better she'd swear there's a hint of _disappointment_ in the woman's voice.

"Um - no. No, I-" the words escape her, fail her once more at the mere thought of what happened last time she put her own needs above her daughter's.

"Of course," Gates catches on quickly. "Right. It was silly of me to ask. I trust that you're both doing well?"

Beckett isn't used to such gentleness; it makes her head swim a little. "We are, yes. Thank you. I'm not - I'm not a hundred percent yet, but Neve's been doing amazing." Oh, god. Did she become one of those mothers whose voices break whenever they mention their child?

Gates's smile widens, a tinge of wistfulness to it. "Neve. It's such an adorable, original name. Was it your idea's or Mr. Castle's?"

This whole conversation is surreal.

"Ah, mine, actually," Kate answers, clearing her throat at the awkwardness. "Castle's ideas were a little more on the...eccentric side." _Nala,_ she snickers inwardly.

"I'm not surprised," the captain says, a spark of knowledge in her eyes - like they share a secret or something. "Well, you did very good, detective. I'll let you go now, but I hope you will not wait until the end of your maternity leave to visit us again."

And on that little hint, Gates retreats into her office, leaving a stunned Kate behind.

"Is she on drugs?" she murmurs to Ryan and Esposito as they step into the elevator together, the boys smirking at her shock.

"Nope," Kevin claims, smiling brightly.

"She just misses you," Javier adds with a lift of his eyebrow, like that's obvious. "We all do."

Beckett shakes her head slowly at his words, can't decide if he's being serious. "Come on, guys. I'm not that irreplaceable."

They keep carefully silent - but the look they exchange is enough to spread a blush at Kate's collarbone.

* * *

Ryan is slurping the last of his milkshake, Esposito staring out the window when she blurts it out stupidly.

"Think I could be something other than a cop?"

She regrets the words the moment they're out, of course, but it's too late: Espo's head has jerked back to her, Ryan choking on his delicious Remy's shake.

She should've said nothing.

"What d'ya mean, something other than a cop?" Esposito sounds almost insulted by her question.

She shakes her head. "Nothing. Just - nothing."

Ryan finally stops coughing and takes a long sip of water, his blue eyes never leaving her face.

"If you're asking whether we think that you could be a stay-at-home mom and spend the rest of your life bringing more Castle babies into this world, then the answer is definitely no," he says calmly, pressing his mouth together like he's sorry for breaking it to her.

Beckett laughs despite herself, the sound somehow making it past her tight throat, and gives him a look. "Thanks, Ryan."

He smiles, but his face remains serious.

"I guess I just..." she trails off, unsure what she wants to say. This is a strange conversation to have with her boys, but at the same time - it wouldn't make sense with anybody else. "I don't want my daughter to grow up without a mom," she admits in a murmur, her heart skipping a beat at the thought.

She had her own mother for nineteen years of her life, and nineteen years were nowhere near enough. What happens if a suspect shoots her, if a bomb goes off right next to her? In the past few years there have been so many near misses. And Neve is so very small-

"And you think quitting'll make a difference?" Esposito says sharply. "You think you can't be run over by a car, caught in a shooting, stabbed in an alley if you're not part of the 12th?"

She sucks in a breath, feels the edge of the words cut right into her. There's a thump under the table and Esposito hisses, looks at his partner in defiance. _Say I'm wrong if you dare,_ his dark eyes seem to say. Ryan only sighs.

"Look," he says, turning back to Beckett. "I know what it feels like. I mean, Jenny's only four months pregnant, and I'm already freaking out that I won't be able to make it home early enough, that I won't be able to help her like I should, to - to be a part of my child's life." He glances at Javier, and Kate can feel a sort of understanding between them. As if they've had this conversation before. "But I think...it's good to be worried? What kind of parents would we be if we weren't, right," he chuckles. A smile tugs at the corner of Beckett's mouth.

"Yeah," she agrees softly, curling her fingers around her empty glass. The sun is shining outside and light spills through the window, a daring beam licking the back of her hand.

"What Ryan's trying to say," Esposito starts again, more gentle this time but just as determined, "is that you can't protect your child from everything, no matter how much you want to. Just like you can't promise Castle that you won't get shot. You can be careful. You can _try. _But in the end of the day - it's all in the hands of God."

She presses her lips together, looks into her former partner's deep brown eyes. Whatever her beliefs might be, she knows what he means, can't deny that he has a point. She'd like to reduce the risks as much as possible, but...

There's no way for her to make sure she'll always be present for her daughter, is there?

"Besides," Ryan says, "the best thing you can do for your kid is be happy, do something that makes you happy. Miserable parents make for miserable kids, Beckett. I think we've all seen examples of that."

They certainly have. Kate leans back into the booth and runs both hands through her hair, pushing a long exhale out of her lungs. Right.

Right. Something that makes her happy.

* * *

After parting with the guys on the sidewalk, Beckett starts walking home without giving it a second thought. The day is nice and warm, she doesn't have anywhere else to be, and she needs some time to herself. Sort it all out.

Castle wasn't completely wrong, was he?

Kate adores her daughter. She's been - swept away by this new, wonderful thing, motherhood, and like everything she's ever fallen in love with, she hasn't exactly been doing it the healthy way. And yeah, there's probably some guilt mixed up in the burst of feeling that pushes her out of bed even when it's supposed to be his turn, that makes her rush to Neve's every call.

Darn.

But Ryan's words...

He's right. Of course he's right; she can never be just Neve's mom. It will never be enough for her. She wishes it was - wishes she didn't need the precinct like she does - but there's no denying how much she loves the squeak of marker on the murder board, the click of the cuffs around a suspect's wrists, the song of justice being done.

Oh, she's not going back just yet. Nope. Kate cherishes her time with her daughter, and it's also good to remember that she can breathe, can exist outside the 12th. She expected to miss it a lot more - and maybe in a few months, she will - but until now it's been surprisingly easy to stay away. And she's going to make the most of that.

When she finally reaches their building and steps into the elevator, her fingers are curling and uncurling over the phone in her pocket. She notices and pulls it out, lets her thumb slide over the screen.

No texts or missed calls. Good. Means that Castle's been distracted enough with Neve.

Or that he's managed to be good.

Beckett smiles to herself, her heart softening at the thought, and she pauses in the hallway as she finds the name she's looking for in her contacts. It can't hurt, right? With a nip of her teeth at her bottom lip, she presses call and puts the phone to her ear, her left fingers tangling in her mess of curls.

"Dr. Burke's office."

"Hi," she says, pleased at the steadiness of her voice. "This is Kate Beckett - I was a patient of Dr. Burke until about a year ago. I wanted to know if I could make an appointment?"

* * *

Castle's curled up on the couch, balanced on his side, his body corralling Neve. The baby's on her belly between him and the leather cushions, a soft green cover spread under her, and she makes cute gurgling sounds as she moves her arms and legs enthusiastically. He set one of her toys just out of her reach - a blue rattle that she really likes - curious to see if he could get her to squirm forward in any way. She hasn't gained a single inch in the last ten minutes that she's been trying, but she doesn't seem to mind at all.

He's tempted to push the rattle closer and reward her efforts anyway when he hears the door open, Kate's low voice call out to them. "I'm home."

"In here," he says back, watching his daughter react at the sound. Oh, she knows her mother's voice alright. The large green eyes and parted little mouth have him stroking his finger under her chin, just the way she likes, and her lashes flutter against her cheeks in pleasure.

Uh-huh. All Beckett.

Speaking of which. Kate's arm wraps around his waist, her warm lips ghosting his shoulder through the thin cotton of his t-shirt as she sighs. "Hey."

"Hey." He contorts his neck to see her, sneaks a glimpse of pink cheeks, tumbling brown hair. "You got sunburned?"

"Mm, did I?"

She rubs her nose to his skin, that adorable thing she does when she's distracted, and more than a little tired. But she sounds good.

"How was lunch?" he asks, careful. He expected her back earlier, to be honest, but playing with Neve helped him keep a leash on his concern.

"Good," she smiles. "Very good. I had a nice time with the boys." She makes a sound of amusement, remembering something. "I met them at the precinct, and Gates was there too, of course, so we talked a little. Only thing she asked about was Neve."

He arches an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Yeah. Our baby's a superstar, Castle," she says, and he laughs with her, relieved and delicious, his eyes going back to their daughter.

Neve's watching them with those big eyes, entranced, her mouth open around her tiny fist. "I swear, she's gonna kill me someday," he jokes weakly at the very real flip of his heart.

Kate doesn't say anything, simply rests her cheek to his bicep, and although the position can't be comfortable for her she stays like this for a while, basking in that moment, it seems, just like he is.

"I'm scared," she murmurs finally, so faint he nearly misses it.

He turns his head, but he can only see a pale crescent of her face. "Of what?"

He thinks she's not going to answer, but after a beat she surprises him and does. "Letting her down," she says. Her voice has that breathy quality that he doesn't like.

The words strike an echo in his memory; it takes him a moment to pin it down. "Who're you talking about? Neve or your mom?"

She hesitates for a second. "Both?"

He needs to see her, so he rolls carefully onto his back, tries not to topple over the edge of the couch. Kate is on her knees between him and the coffee table, a wistful look in her eyes, and he reaches to cup her cheek. She leans into his hand, closes her eyes. It makes him want to cry, the abandon with which she does that.

"Kate." He's a little winded, his heart racing; the words are reluctant to come. "I don't know what you're talking about, love. You're an amazing mother." It's true, he only has Meredith to compare her to. Still - he certainly knows the difference.

"You're sweet," she says, and her face actually clears a little, her mouth curving slightly.

"Just telling the truth. Neve adores you - she can tell your voice all the way from the door. You should've seen how excited she was when you got back."

Kate huffs a laugh, but her eyes are hopeful when she turns to their daughter. "Is that true, sweet girl?" she says, reaching to stroke her hand over Neve's back. The baby's feet wriggle and Castle grins hopelessly, catches a mirroring expression on Beckett's face.

"See? And you've barely even touched her," he says, wanting more of that soft, beautiful smile. "She's a sucker for you, Kate."

"She is now. Because I'm spending all my time with her. But what happens when I go back to work, Castle?"

Ah. So it's _when_, and not _if _anymore_. _He lets out a long breath, relief and...maybe a twinge of anxiety, too.

"We've talked about this," he reminds her. "Kate. You know we have. The fact that you're a cop, that you've chosen to spend your life helping others - it doesn't mean you can't have a family of your own. It just means you have to be careful. And divide your time accordingly. Which, honestly, might be the hardest part of it all," he teases.

She doesn't smile, looks so grief-stricken that his heart sinks. He moves his hand to her neck, curling his fingers through her soft hair in an attempt to bring her closer. "What's this about?" he murmurs, propping himself up on an elbow so that when she does lean in, his lips brush against her forehead. "If it's Ryan and Esposito that made you so sad, they're never driving my Ferrari again."

She laughs, a fragile, shaky thing, and gives a little shake of her head. "No, they were fine. It's just..stuff that I've been thinking about, that's all."

"Just stuff, huh?" He looks at her, that shimmer in her eyes and the tight press of her mouth. "Beckett. You know you can tell me anything."

"I just want to be there for my daughter's first day of school," she says almost regretfully. "I want to be there the first time a boy breaks her heart, and when she leaves for college, and when-"

Her voice breaks, her bottom lip suffering a fierce attack from her teeth, and he can only stroke his fingers at her nape as he tries, fails, to find the right words. "And you will. Kate, you will-"

"Do you think I should quit the 12th?" she asks, brutally honest.

Her hazel eyes meet his squarely, and he's speechless. "Do I - what? No." He shouldn't be this surprised, probably. It's been a long time coming. "Kate. No. I don't think you should quit your job. Why would you do that?"

"I could do something safer," she says, swallowing. "Something where I don't have to risk my life all the time."

"But you _love _being a detective." He hears his own voice, petulant like a little child, and tones it down. "You're incredible at it. Roy always said you were the best he'd ever trained, and I know he meant it. Throwing away a gift like that? It'd be wrong, Kate. And - honestly? I'd rather have you do a dangerous job that thrills you and challenges you than some boring desk thing that you'd hate. I want you to be happy. And so does Neve. And when she's older, on nights when you can't make it back in time to tuck her in, I'll tell her the same thing Jordan Shaw's husband said to their daughter. Remember?"

A small smile dances on Beckett's lips. "That I'm out slaying dragons?"

"Exactly," he says, brushing his thumb to the sharp line of her cheekbone. There are no tears, of course - this is Kate Beckett - but the emotion is there, lingering. He can't help but wonder- "You know I would love you no matter what your job is, right?"

She looks at him from under her eyelashes. Yeah, it won't hurt to say it again. "I don't care if you're a detective or a librarian or an astronaut. As far as I'm concerned, you can be anything you want, Kate. As long as you come home to me."

She nuzzles into his neck in response, kisses his skin slowly, and a long shiver runs through him, almost makes him forget what he wants to say. "I just - don't want you to quit a job you love for the wrong reasons," he finishes, quiet, feels the feather-soft touch of her fingers at his lips.

"Thank you," she says, drawing back to look at him. Her eyes are a deep, liquid brown, so beautiful, and if it wasn't for the baby on the couch-

Neve chooses that exact moment to shake her rattle and slam it into his thigh, a move that doesn't really hurt but is definitely a claim for attention; he sits up and reaches for her, gathering her in his lap, smiling at her happy babbling. Alexis was a silent baby, her blue eyes wide open on the world around her, but this little one certainly has things to say.

Kate's hands slide under his, curl at the girl's armpits. He waits a second, making sure she has Neve, and then he abandons the baby to her, watches with his heart in his throat the tenderness with which she cradles their daughter to her chest, the way her lips move against that smooth forehead.

He can't catch any of the murmured words, doesn't even try, because the love that pours out of her - it's enough. All he'll ever need.

* * *

Castle comes into the bathroom while she's getting ready for bed, almost done brushing her teeth. She started undressing before her mind shifted gears, so she's left in her pants and purple bra, her favorite one.

"Sexy," he murmurs, lifting an eyebrow at her reflection. He skims his fingers along her waist and she shivers, leans over the sink to rinse her mouth.

When she straightens up, he's still watching her, awe and arousal battling in his eyes. She steps back and rests her back against his chest, tilts her head so her temple connects with the line of his neck. His arms readily circle her waist, his lips brushing a faint kiss to her hair, and she lets her eyes drift shut, content to let her body sink into the cove of his.

His thumb skates along the underside of her bra, more teasing than actual intent, and she lets out a low chuckle, feels her body's half-hearted response. Mm, she's tired.

"You feel good," she sighs, layering her arms over his.

"And you smell amazing," he says, dropping his head and pressing his cheek, his nose to her temple.

Her smile is immediate and irresistible, her lashes parting as she takes another look at the mirror. Castle is staring at them; something in his eyes makes her heart pound, her mouth go dry.

Love, yes, but also an intense longing that he hasn't let her see in weeks, that she had almost forgotten about. She bites her lip, pushes back the guilt that licks at her chest. It's not enough for him, is it? That she's moved into the loft, that they have a little girl together. That she makes him Sunday brunch.

It might mean forever to her, might be enough, but he was always the romantic, always the one who needed...more. And he needs this. The image of them together, the certainty, all their promises sealed into one. It's written on his face - how badly he wants it. For the first time Kate feels something give inside her, a realization slowly unfurling. She was wrong: it's not about the baby, not about 'making things right', not about her and her qualms about becoming the third Mrs. Castle.

It's about him. About what he needs, because he's given her so much, so _very_ much, and it's time she give back.

Kate exhales slowly and then curls her hands over his, detaches his arms from herself. She spins around to face him, reaching to close her fingers around his forearms, and meets the silent question in his eyes.

"Ask me again," she says.


End file.
